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78
AVE, LUX.
The light has chased the dark at last;All hail, thou golden morning,
With happy breeze for that wild blast
Which all the night-time gone and past,
Shrieked out a woful warning,
When high waves leapt along the shore,
The voice of Death their thundering roar,
Control and pity scorning:
Nay, hush, there's peace at earth's deep core,
The light has come, the dark is o'er,—
All hail, thou golden morning!
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