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by a thousand nameless fears,
 * I see life's little day begin to wane,
 * And hear the well-loved voices call in vain

Across the narrowing margin of my years; And as the Valley of the Shadow nears,
 * Such yearning tides of tenderness and pain
 * Sweep over me that I can scarce restrain

The gathering flood of ineffectual tears.

Yet there are moments when the shadows bring
 * No sense of parting or approaching night,

But, rather, all my soul seems broadening
 * Before the dawn of unimagined light—

As if within the heart a folded wing
 * Were making ready for a wider flight.