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MISCELLANEOUS POEMS.
THE SONG OF NIGHT.
O night,
And storm, and darkness! ye are wondrous strong,
Yet lovely in your strength!
Byron.
I come to thee, O Earth!
With all my gifts!—for every flower sweet dew,
In bell, and urn, and chalice, to renew
The glory of its birth.
Not one which glimmering lies
Far amidst folding hills, or forest leaves,
But, through its veins of beauty, so receives
A spirit of fresh dyes.
