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FROM DUSK TO DAWN.
When the new dawn rose, they both were gone,—
On the bed a shape like the woman's lay,—
But she, with the ghost of the gay, glad past,
To some land of shadows had wandered away:

A land where she found the lost again,—
Where youth was waiting, and love was sweet,
And all the joys she had buried once
Sprang up like blossoms about her feet.