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LXV


Softly the wind moves through the radiant morning,
  1
And the warm sunlight sinks into the valley,
Filling the green earth with a quiet joyance,
Strength, and fulfilment.

Even so, gentle, strong and wise and happy,
  5
Through the soul and substance of my being,
Comes the breath of thy great love to meward,
O thou dear mortal.







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