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There came an unsought guest,
And down the wind she blew
A joy, a hope, a jest—
A song or two.
While mournful hearts had we,
Lamenting overmuch
On many a face to see
Her gentle touch.
For some there are obey
Her will with great content,
Abide her yea and nay
With sweet assent—
The stars, the hills, the seas
And all the water springs,
Pale flowers of the may
And fleeting, winged things.
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