Page:A Christmas Faggot (1884, Gurney).djvu/54

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Is life sad for lost love's sake,
     Falls a blight upon thy bliss,
Smiles no more their sunshine make,
     Lips estranged withhold their kiss?
For thy consolation take
     Some such song as this:—

Shine on us, O Morning Star!
     Help our weeping eyes to see;
Never may we deem things are
     What to us they seem to be;