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Rh

Broad gold, the evening colors glow, The April air is cool and tender. You should have come ten years ago, And yet in welcome I surrender.

Come here, sit closer in our nook, And turn gay eyes at what my nurses Might never glimpse: the blue-bound book That holds my awkward childish verses.

Forgive me that I did not look Sunward with joy, but dwelt with sorrow, Forgive me all whom I mistook For you, oblivious of the morrow.