Harmonies (Howe collection)/After All

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AFTER ALL
How shall the storm end? Thus, for me:—
By night, with a west wind strong and free,
Rolling seaward the clouds on high
Like routed squadrons across the sky,
Across the moon that shall change their gray
To the silver-white of a mystic day;
Rifts there shall be, and back, far back,
In the depths of the blue so nearly black,
A few sure stars like eyes shall shine
And say, "Here the storms end, earth's and thine."

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