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Towards the Light
Thy weary head sinks down in
lassitude.
Thy task is done: Our spirit
child created!
Fruit of my thought —it has
grown up in thee
;
In pain brought forth, but yet of
love begotten.
The seed he bears within is Life
Eternal,
That seed will germinate in
bleeding hearts
And ripen to a crop of richest
blessing.
BoviGNY Chapel, Belgium.
Midsummernight, i8gg>
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