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Rh

As my wont, in a secret nook I left my horse,—I may not tell With what delight my way I took Till I had reach'd the oak-hid dell. The trees which hitherto had made A more than night, with lighten'd shade Now let the stars and sky shine through, Rejoicing, calm, and bright, and blue.

There did not move a leaf that night That I cannot remember now, Nor yet a single star whose light Was on the royal midnight's brow: Wander'd no cloud, sigh'd not a flower, That is not present at this hour. No marvel memory thus should press Round its last light of happiness!