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"Not a sound

But, echoing in ht,

Till it breaks on Thee,

Queen of Night!

Every tree,

O'ershadoith gloom,

Seems to cover thee

Secret, dark, love-still'd,

In a holy room

Silence-filled

"Let no ht;

I in darksoht--

Grope for thee!

"Darker grow

The borders of the dark!

Through the branches glow,

Froht for love"

Scarcely had the last sounds floated away fro of h near h of one ould not be heard, but the laugh of one who has just

received soh that ends in

a lowsideways, saw a di thicket of smaller trees and