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L.

Yet cannot he whose power first wrought the dream
Prolong it—aye for ever, if he wills?
He who upon earth's emerald hills
Set sunlight, on the sea its sapphire gleam;

114

He who bright day by day, glad hour by hour,
Hath helped us, filling every spring the land
With laughter of a thousand fields in flower
That flashed with countless gold beneath his hand;
Can he not, though our hearts despond,
Elsewhere with nobler tints adorn the year?
The love that drew so fair a picture here
Has failed not ever. Can it fail beyond?