< Page:Poems and ballads (IA balladspoems00swinrich).pdf
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AT PARTING.
145
But his wings will not rest and his feet will not stay for us:
Morning is here in the joy of its might;
With his breath has he sweetened a night and a day for us;
Now let him pass, and the myrtles make way for us;
Love can but last in us here at his height
For a day and a night.
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