<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</SPAN></span></p>
<h3>XIII</h3>
<h3><i>The Ribbon</i></h3>
<div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
<span class="i0">Ah, dearest, dearest, not alone<br/></span>
<span class="i0">I face the day’s white monotone.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">The fair, bright ribbon of the hours—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">A mountain brook bestead through flowers—<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Runs, a dear line, from you to you.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">There is no smallest deed I do<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Through which the ribbon does not run,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">A silver string to pearls of sun.<br/></span>
<span class="i0">So glad I watch the moments fly<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Across the high-hung summer sky,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">Till in a radiant flame they burn,<br/></span>
<span class="i0">To mark the hour of your return.<br/></span></div>
</div>
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