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 The Hermit by George William Russell 
						NOW the quietude of earthNestles deep my heart within;
 Friendships new and strange have birth
 Since I left the city’s din.
 
 
 Here the tempest stays its guile,
 Like a big kind brother plays,
 Romps and pauses here awhile
 From its immemorial ways.
 
 
 Now the silver light of dawn,
 Slipping through the leaves that fleck
 My one window, hurries on,
 Throws its arms around my neck.
 
 
 Darkness to my doorway hies,
 Lays her chin upon the roof,
 And her burning seraph eyes
 Now no longer keep aloof.
 
 
 And the ancient mystery
 Holds its hands out day by day,
 Takes a chair and croons with me
 By my cabin built of clay.
 
 
 When the dusky shadow flits,
 By the chimney nook I see
 Where the old enchanter sits,
 Smiles and waves and beckons me.
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