because one was too many. | I LISTEN for him through the rain, | |
| And in the dusk of starless hours | |
| I know that he will come again; | |
| Loth was he ever to forsake me: | |
| He comes with glimmering of flowers | 5 |
| And stir of music to awake me. | |
| Spirit of purity, he stands | |
| As once he lived in charm and grace: | |
| I may not hold him with my hands, | |
| Nor bid him stay to heal my sorrow; | 10 |
| Only his fair, unshadowed face | |
| Abides with me until to-morrow. |
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