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MORE LIFE.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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MORE LIFE.

When spring-time prospers in the grass,
And fills the vales with tender bloom,
And light winds whisper as they pass
Of sunnier days to come:
In spite of all the joy she brings
To flood and field, to hill and grove,
This is the song my spirit sings,—
More light, more life, more love!
And when, her time fulfilled, she goes
So gently from her vernal place,
And meadow wide and woodland glows
With sober summer grace:
When on the stalk the ear is set,
With all the harvest promise bright,
My spirit sings the old song yet,—
More love, more life, more light.
When stubble takes the place of grain,
And shrunken streams steal slow along,
And all the faded woods complain
Like one who suffers wrong;
When fires are lit, and everywhere
The pleasures of the household rife,
My song is solemnized to prayer,—
More love, more light, more life!