There with the night
Where to all was bright
When paddocks are full
And flowers white
So is the dream
To which availeth in spite
On the drags of ruin
And the fields of blight

The latch that was fastened
Is fastened no more
The string unthreaded
The mighty uproar
Whilst him their maker standeth
Looking up with hollow eyes spent
Across the fields and beyond the shore
To stars above
There with the night
Where to all is bright
No longer to ignore

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