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[Page 74]

(51)
or opportunities of fortune can be thieves of its glory.
As we march on the new morn has thus come to be as a painted scene of light on the eastern wall of the sky blue dome, and the ragged shapes of ruin stand solid and sharp and fixed against the clear beauty of it
Yet the horizon is, as it were, in the vesture of dreams where the crimson is but as faint rose wine, with the gold and silver to the luster of mingled to the luster of dissolving pearls and the purple still in folds of cloister grey.
And as though a curtain were drifting with the breeze and close clinging to the very edge of the world there is

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