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At Daybreak

 I listen for him through the rain, 
And in the dusk of starless hours 
I know that he will come again; 
Loth was he ever to forsake me: 
He comes with glimmering of flowers
And stir of music to awake me.
Spirit of purity, he stands As once he lived in charm and grace: I may not hold him with my hands, Nor bid him stay to heal my sorrow; Only his fair, unshadowed face Abides with me until to-morrow.

by Siegfried Sassoon
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