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TREES AND OTHER POEMS

THE FOURTH SHEPHERD (continued) IV

On nights like this the huddled sheep—

I never saw a night so fair.

How huge the sky is, and how deep!

And how the planets flash and glare!

At dawn beside my drowsy flock

What wingéd music I have heard!

But now the clouds with singing rock

As if the sky were turning bird.

O blinding Light, O blinding Light!

Burn through my heart with sweetest pain.

O flaming Song, most loudly bright,

Consume away my deadly stain!

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