Page:Poems Blake.djvu/75

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JUNE.
67
Hushes to rest the inward strife,
And life alone is perfect bliss.

Beautiful days to sit apart,
With but one friend to share your throne,
Feeling the pulse of that dear heart
Beat through the silence with your own;

Until the twilight pale and gray
Woke on the shadowy evening's breast,
And breathed above the dying day
Her evening hymn of peace and rest.