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She Walks In Beauty, Like The Night
She walks in beauty, through the night,
Where stars like blossoms burn so bright,
The hush of dusk upon her hair,
A ghost of moonlight trailing there.
She does not speak, yet all is said
In how she lifts her dreaming head—
A lily tall amid the gloom,
A hush within the heart of bloom.
The shadows bend to let her pass,
She stirs the dew upon the grass,
And in her eyes a world is spun,
Of broken things made whole, begun.
She walks in beauty, calm and wide,
The ache of heaven at her side,
A sorrow sweet as midnight air,
And peace as deep as her despair—
She walks, and none may follow there.
Copyright ©
James Mclain
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