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Solitude
Let us rise, O my heart, let us go where the twilight is calling
Far away from the sound of this lonely and menacing crowd,
To the glens, to the glades, where the magical darkness is falling
In rivers of gold from the breast of a radiant cloud.
Come away, come away from this throng and its tumult of sorrow,
There is rest, there is peace from the pang of its manifold strife
Where the halcyon night holds in trust the dear songs of the morrow,
And the silence is but a rich pause in the music of life.
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