A magic wrought of dying dreams A wizard light that creeps and glows; Painting grey hills and sluggish streams In tints of gold and rose Staining with fire the cherry-snow Lighting our hearts with sudden flame As if the love of long ago Back from its ashes came Rose-flushed and radiant everything And joy and hope are born anew; Even the darting swallow’s wing Has caught its glowing hue Ah! swift it dies from hill and plain… Be wise dear heart and let me go; Not love that lit our hearts again— Only it’s afterglow!
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