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Rh

Like a cloak before it, darkening the ranks Of the light young trees on the river's banks, And ending there, as the waters shone Too bright for shadows to rest upon, A castle stands; whose windows gleam Like the golden flash of a noon-lit stream Seen through the lily and water-flags' screen: Just so shine those panes through the ivy green, A curtain to shut out sun and air, Which the work of years has woven there. —But not in the lighted pomp of the west Looks the evening its loveliest; Enter yon turret, and round you gaze On what the twilight east displays: One star, pure, clear, as if it shed The dew on each young flower's head;