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 ::::IN THE NIGHT

CRY like a child's cry lost in the rain Came to me out of the mist. I rose and answered that cry again, But it went sobbing over the plain And died into the mist.

And where it had been came the scent of flowers Out of a world's distress, With a moan of gathered thunder-showers And a gasping loneliness.

And the gods with their faces wet with crying, The old gods strange and wild, Swept out upon us across the night, And — oh mystery, mystery infinite! The gods and the weeping child and I    Laughed and kissed in ecstasy!