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Normale Version: All the young Poets
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All the young Poets, crowding up with eyes
Yet wistful with the morning, and who throng
Silently yet with the first love of song
And ways made delicate with your surprise,

On whom the seal and the fair promise lies,
Come up to the broad ways where ye belong
Paven with golden echoings and strong
As stalwart stars set close along the skies.

As surely will ye come from the dim years
As changes, seasons, or as unborn daisies.
We doubt these not, nor ye, who are God's own,
But bit ye welcome to our songless spheres
And watch lest he who most deserves our praises
Shall come forsaken, bleeding and alone.