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   And the white dawn never flows away.
Oh tremulous hope! Oh large escape!
Oh bent and bowed, resume your shape
   And disposses the dispossessors!

                 Can it be true?
Can the weak overcome the strong?
   Can forgiveness all things cover?
Can the singer hear the end of his song?
   Can the loved return to the lover?

Oh planet silver-scornful, oh planet calm!
   Riding the ether alone,
Will this great dawn bring us the longed-for balm
   And for all griefs atone?

Still low and sweet the cry comes to my ears —
   "They have buried him in vain!" —
But fainter, fainter, comes it, and cold salt tears
   Are on my cheek again.

                 It is the place!
From the high terrace I lean forth
   And look to the east and look to the north.
Oh pity! Why does that sweet cry fail?
   And why grows Lucifer so pale?
Why do the lovely and tender things
   Sink back again to their primal springs?
What wheels are those whose terror draws nigh,
   Rolling up the slope of the sky?
                        Look!