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Upon the hot and burning stars,
Thus moving on, with silent pace,
Then, through the silence overhead, An angel with a trumpet said, “Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is o'er !” And, like an instrument that flings Its music on another's strings, The trumpet of the angel cast Upon the heavenly lyre its blast, And on from sphere to sphere the words Reëchoed down the burning chords, – “Forevermore, forevermore, The reign of violence is o'er ! ”
I stood on the bridge at midnight,
As the clocks were striking the hour, And the moon rose o'er the city,
Behind the dark church-tower.
And far in the hazy distance
Of that lovely night in June, The blaze of the flaming furnace Gleamed redder than the moon.
Among the long, black rafters
The wavering shadows lay, And the current that came from the ocean
Seemed to lift and bear them away ;
As, sweeping and eddying through them,
Rose the belated tide,
The seaweed floated wide.
And like those waters rushing
Among the wooden piers,
That filled my eyes with tears.
How often, O, how often,
In the days that had gone by, I had stood on that bridge at midnight
And gazed on that wave and sky !
How often, 0; how often,
I had wished that the ebbing tide Would bear me away on its bosom
D'er the ocean wild and wide !
For my heart was hot and restless,
And my life was full of care, And the burden laid upon me
Seemed greater than I could bear.
But now it has fallen from me,
It is buried in the sea ;
Throws its shadow over me.