If you speak of wonders,
They believe in
Ten thousand things;
Or they believe in nothing:
Yet, their laughter walks
Slowly, upon the heels
Of their tears:
In every life,
The light was out;
And no one was
Looking for the morning:
But suddenly and simply,
Like any dawn
That takes its turn;
There he stands,
Just outside our door....
Now and then striking within,
To give us back
The glory of lost ideals.
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