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82
Dean Oakley.
June 10th, 1890.
Here am I wrapped about with sun and showers
Among the hills that often gave you call,
Blue hills that gleamed so near to Carlisle's wall,
That seemed so far from dark Mancunium's towers;
And you are wrapped about with cloud of flowers,
Or lie beneath the purple sunless pall,
In some sad Cymric village, and tears fall,
And bells are muffled, for the Lord of mowers
Has, in His June-tide mowing, touched your field:
But God doth know that never heart did beat
For poor man's wants and woes with surer heat,
And they who follow on Christ's sheaves to bind
In fallows where you sowed, shall surely find
Life's joy hath increase, Love—a larger yield.
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