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Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
HERE in the quiet eve My thankful eyes receive The quiet light. I see the trees stand fair Against the faded air, And star by star prepare The perfect night. And in my bosom, lo! Content and quiet grow Toward perfect peace. And now when day is done, Brief day of wind and sun, The pure stars, one by one, Their troop increase. Keen pleasure and keen grief Give place to great relief: Farewell my tears! Still sounds toward me float; I hear the bird's small note, Sheep from the far sheepcote, And lowing steers. For lo! the war is done, Lo, now the battle won, The trumpets still. The shepherd's slender strain, The country sounds again Awake in wood and plain, On haugh and hill. Loud wars and loud loves cease. I welcome my release; And hail once more Free foot and way world-wide. And oft at eventide Light love to talk beside The hostel door.
Robert Louis Stevenson
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