ys when they were warm and living men.
These morning streets, the lawns of windy grass, And spires that wear the sunlight like a crown, The square where busy, happy people pass: The living soul that lights the little Town,-- These have been shining beauty for my mind, And joy, and friendship, and a tale to tell, And these have been a presence that is kind, A quiet music and a healing well.
Men who were lovers in the olden time, Who praised the beauty of bright hair and brow, And left a little monument of rhyme,-- Wrought not more tenderly than I would, now, To turn some changing syllables of praise For her whose quiet beauty fills my days.
Here would I leave some subtle part of me, A moving presence through the friendly Town, Abiding still, and happy still to be Where thoughtful men pass daily up and down;-- An essence stirring on the ways they fare, Haunting the drifted sunlight where they go, Till one might mark a Something on
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