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104
A FEW HOURS IN A FAR-OFF AGE.
While the voice pronounced those last words, "mid-day song" came rolling down the galleries. In vain I implore for one half-hour longer, to hear that glorious music.
Firmly, yet sorrowfully, the voice repeats "Away!"
I am flying through ages of always decreasing light and beauty, while the students' enchanting harmony rings in my ears:
Facts evolving,
Darkness fleeing,
Mists dissolving,
Great truths seeing.
