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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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So, like the corn moon-ripened last,

Would I, weary and gray,

On golden memories ripen fast,

And ripening pass away.

In an old night so let me die;

A slow wind out of doors;

waning moon low in the sky; A vapour on the moors;
fire just dying in the gloom; Earth haunted all with dreams;
sound of waters in the room; A mirror's moony gleams;

And near me, in the sinking night,

More thoughts than move in me--

Forgiving wrong, and loving right,

And waiting till I see.

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