III.
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ot in the crises of events,Of compass’d hopes, or fears fulfill’d,Or acts of gravest consequence,Are life’s delight and depth reveal’d.The day of days was not the day;That went before, or was postponed;The night Death took our lamp awayWas not the night on which we groan’d.I drew my bride, beneath the moon,Across my threshold; happy hour!But, ah, the walk that afternoonWe saw the water-flags in flower!
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