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 :When the world returns to Spring,
 * In the commonwealth of races
 * Every Poet shall be King
 * With a court of happy faces:
 * Maidens in a rosy ring
 * Shall be lavish of embraces;

Every night shall throb with music: all the reeling world shall sing.


 * I must dream no moro to-day:
 * Children, home! we cannot sever
 * Pain and Grief and Death whose sway
 * Stands unalterable ever.
 * Though you roam the woods alway,
 * Vain is love, and vain endeavour.

Sorrow breathes among the woodland; whispers break upon our play.