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118
THE LETTERS.
6.
We parted: sweetly gleam'd the stars,
And sweet the vapour-braided blue,
Low breezes fann'd the belfry bars,
As homeward by the church I drew.
The very graves appear'd to smile,
So fresh they rose in shadow'd swells;
'Dark porch' I said 'and silent aisle
There comes a sound of marriage bells.'
