Page:The Single Hound; poems of a lifetime.djvu/119

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F pain for peace prepares,

Lo the "Augustan" years

Our feet await!

If Springs from Winter rise,

Can the Anemone's

Be reckoned up?

If night stands first, then noon,

To gird us for the sun,

What gaze—

When, from a thousand skies.

On our developed eyes

Noons blaze!