  Sometimes when western lamps burn low, I feel thee near, tho thou art far, Doth parting heal I long to know, Or distance deeper brand the scar. Sometimes when chill the winds that blow, Thy spirit calms the atmosphere, A zephyr heartstrings’ lyric bow, Warm strains of melody I hear. Sometimes when in the evening glow, My soul seems interlocked with thine, While artful shadows come and go, I pause to quaff a drink divine. |
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