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| IT was the fairy of the place, | |
| Moving within a little light, | |
| Who touched with dim and shadowy grace | |
| The conflict at its fever height. | |
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| It seemed to whisper Quietness, | 5 |
| Then quietly itself was gone: | |
| Yet echoes of its mute caress | |
| Were with me as the years went on. | |
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| It was the warrior within | |
| Who called Awake, prepare for fight: | 10 |
| Yet lose not memory in the din: | |
| Make of thy gentleness thy might: | |
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| Make of thy silence words to shake | |
| The long-enthroned kings of earth: | |
| Make of thy will the force to break | 15 |
| Their towers of wantonness and mirth. | |
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| It was the wise all-seeing soul | |
| Who counselled neither war nor peace: | |
| Only be thou thyself that goal | |
| In which the wars of time shall cease. | 20 |
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