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Out of the dark pure twilight, where the stream Flows glimmering, streaked by many a birdlike bark That skims the gloom whence towers and bridges gleam Out of the dark,

Once more a face no glance might choose but mark Shone pale and bright, with eyes whose deep slow beam Made quick the twilight, lifeless else and stark.

The same it seemed, or mystery made it seem, As those before beholden; but St. Mark Ruled here the ways that showed it like a dream Out of the dark.