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Beyond
the Hills of Dream
by
William Wilfred Campbell
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Glory
of the Dying Day
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O GLORY
of the dying day
That into darkness fades away!
O violet splendor melting down
By river bend o’er tower and town!
O glory of the dying day
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That
into darkness fades away!
O splendor of the gates of night!
O majesty of dying light
That all a molten glory glows,
Till purple-crimson fades to rose
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And
dying, melting, outward goes
In ashes on the even’s rim,
When all the world grows faint and dim!
O silvern sound of far-off bells
Ringing, ringing miles
away
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Over
river, fields, and fells,
Round the crimson
and the gray;
Pealing softly evening out
As the dewy dusk comes
down,
And the great night folds about
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River,
woodlands, hills, and town!
O glory of the fading hills!
Splendor of the river’s
breast!
O silence that the whole world fills!
Sanctity of peaceful
rest!
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Alien
from the care of day,
Now a petalled star
peeps in:
Now night’s
choruses begin,
Musical and far away.
O glory of the dying day,
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When
my life’s evening fades away,
May it in splendid peace go down
Like yours o’er river-bend and town—
Not into silence blind and stark,
Not into wintry muffled dark— |
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But,
heralded by stars divine,
May my life’s latest evening ray
Melt into such a night
as thine.
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