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 Drinking all beauty from his birth Out of the heaven and the earth As from a cup.

And Mary, who was growing old, Knew that the pottage would be cold When he returned; He hungered only for the night, And westward, bending sharp and bright, The thin moon burned.

He reached the open western gate Where whining halt and leper wait, And came at last To the blue desert, where the deep Great seas of twilight lay asleep, Windless and vast.

With shining eyes the stars awoke, The dew lay heavy on his cloak, The world was dim;