Margaret Dean
When we broke in the lamp was burning still
With clear and steady light,
Although the noonday blazed on heath and hill,
But in her eyes was night.
Their flame, that had outbraved the stress and care
Of hope and fear and doubt,
In the long quiet of the last despair
Had gently flickered out.
With clear and steady light,
Although the noonday blazed on heath and hill,
But in her eyes was night.
Their flame, that had outbraved the stress and care
Of hope and fear and doubt,
In the long quiet of the last despair
Had gently flickered out.
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