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IN THE WILDERNESS
Gaunt windy moons bedraggled in the dusk Have drifted by and withered in their shame, The once-proud Thunder-Terror, fallen tame, Noses for truffles with unwhetted tusk; A sickening scent of civet and of musk Has clogged the nostrils of the Hound of Fame— But flickering stars are blown to vivid flame When leaps your beauty from its blazing husk.
Blossom of burning solitude! High things Are lit with splendour—Love your glimmering ray Smites them to glory—below them and away A little song floats upward on the wings Of daring, and the thunders of the Day Clamour to God the messages it brings.
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