Page:Poems, Volume 2, Coates, 1916.djvu/166

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Whose smile caressing,
My wrong redressing,
Tells me the Maid is near!

Blessèd, O blessèd, be thy light!
She comes from the shadows—blissful sight!—
To the breast that bore her
To the yearning for her,
That fills me, day and night!