The Coming
Low in the west, the early star
Is hazed with fires of Spring.
Low in the east, the golden moon
Comes slowly westering.
The last-year leaves, they breathe and stir
With hope beyond their ken.
O golden fear! — that men must hear
All hearts wake up again.
Is hazed with fires of Spring.
Low in the east, the golden moon
Comes slowly westering.
The last-year leaves, they breathe and stir
With hope beyond their ken.
O golden fear! — that men must hear
All hearts wake up again.
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