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Beyond
the Hills of Dream
by
William Wilfred Campbell
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Her
Look
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TIME
may set his fingers there,
Fix the smiles that curve about
Her winsome mouth, and touch her hair,
Put the curves of youth to rout;
But the “something” God put there, |
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That
which drew me to her first,
Not the imps of pain and care,
Not all sorrow’s fiends accurst,
Can kill the look that God put there.
Something beautiful and rare,
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Nothing
common can destroy;
Not all the leaden load of care,
Not all the dross of earth’s alloy;
Better than all fame or gold,
True as only God’s own truth, |
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It is
something all hearts hold
Who have loved once in their youth.
That sweet look her face doth hold
Thus will ever be to me;
Joy may all her pinions fold,
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Care
may come and misery;
Through the days of murk and shine,
Though the roads be foul or fair,
I will see through love’s glad eyne
That sweet look that God put there.
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