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HUEFFER, FRANCIS: IT was the hour before the Sun divideth
IT was the hour before the Sun divideth
The high gates of his cloudy house at last ;
I pondered o'er the dark days of the past,
And those that, darker still, the future hideth.
Then spake the voice that mocketh aye, that chideth
My inmost heart:'Lo thy high love is cast
Away, and thy life's stream is ebbing fast
From where thy soul in barrenness abideth.'
To still that voice, to quench heart-burning fire
What stream's forgetfulness shall we desire,
What murmuring water's soothing lullaby ?
Is it the darkness of Lethean flood,
Is it the brook that in Spring's morninghood
Waters the blue-starred flower of memory ?

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