We were out on the hills that night
To watch our sheep;
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The poet sang of a battle-field
Where doughty deeds were done,
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I like to think of the many words
The Master in his early days
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Across the meadow in brooding shadow
I walk to drink of the autumn's wine
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I sought for my happiness over the world,
Oh, eager and far was my quest;
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He rides away with sword and spur,
Garbed in his warlike blazonry,
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I smile o'er the wrinkled blue
Lo! the sea is fair,
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Here on a hill of the occident stand we shoulder to shoulder,
Comrades tried and true through a mighty swath of the years!
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Let those who will of friendship sing,
And to its guerdon grateful be,
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I smiled with skeptic mocking where they told me you were dead,
You of the airy laughter and lightly twinkling feet;
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My friend has gone away from me
From shadow into perfect light,
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Now on the hill
The fitful wind is so still
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I lash and writhe against my prison bars,
And watch with sullen eyes the gaping crowd . .
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Here is a voice that soundeth low and far
And lyricvoice of wind among the pines,
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Make it where the winds may sweep
Through the pine boughs soft and deep,
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When the salt wave laps on the long, dim shore,
And frets the reef with its windy sallies,
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Night in the unslumbering forest! From the free,
Vast pinelands by the foot of man untrod,
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Life, come to me in no pale guise and ashen,
I care not for thee in such placid fashion!
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When we were together, heart of my heart, on that unforgotten quest,
With your tender arm about me thrown and your head upon my breast,
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I know a place for loitering feet
Deep in the valley where the breeze
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Through the pungent hours of the afternoon,
On the autumn slopes we have lightly wandered
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Come, for the dusk is our own; let us fare forth together,
With a quiet delight in our hearts for the ripe, still, autumn weather,
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Lo, it is dark,
Save for the crystal spark
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It came to him in rainbow dreams,
Blent with the wisdom of the sages,
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A gallant city has been builded far
In the pied heaven,
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Out of the fires of the sunset come we again to our own
We have girdled the world in our sailing under many an orient star;
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There's a gypsy wind across the harvest land,
Let us fare forth with it lightly hand in hand;
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Last night a pale young Moon was wed
Unto the amorous, eager Sea;
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Shut from the clamor of the street
By an old wall with lichen grown,
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Here I lean over you, small son, sleeping
Warm in my arms,
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