Page:Songs of exile (IA songsofexile00daviiala).pdf/109

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Wrapt in still thought, with sad and mournful mien,

Plying his axe with oft a troubled sigh,

He dreamed of glory which the House had seen

In days gone by;

Mused of the time when in the Holy Place

God's Presence dwelt between the Cherubim,

And of the day He turned away His face,

And light grew dim;

When the Shechinah from that erring throng,

Alas, withdrew, yet tarried in the track,

As one who lingereth on the threshold long

And looketh back;

Then step by step in that reluctant flight

Approached the shadow of the city wall,

And lingered yet upen the mountain height

For hoped recall.