  O city night of noises and alarms, Your lights may flare, your cables clang and rush, But in the sanctuary of my love’s arms Your blinding tumult dies into a hush. My doors are surged about with your unrest; Your plangent cares assail my realm of peace; But when I come unto her quiet breast How suddenly your jar and clamor cease! Then even remembrance of your strifes and pains Diminishes to a ghost of sorrows gone, Remoter than a dream of last year’s rains |
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