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WAITING.

THE barren trees make ready for the spring;

The buds they bear, from day to day, unfold

Until they burst their covering; hidden gold

In darkness aye develops, till men bring

Its glory to the light. Thus everything

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Forever works, prepares for what shall be;

And shall I only dream, though sweet it be

To dream of joy fulfilled, to dream of Thee?

No! Deed to deed I'll add, as day to day

Is added. I will find new strength each hour

For some new task, each moment sweeps away

Decreasing trouble with increasing power.

Thus shall I grow, like every living thing,

Until thou come, my Joy, my Light, my Spring!

E. C. P.

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