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THE NIGHT COMETH.
We see the evening shadows
Upon the dewy ground;
And the flowers are softly closing
That by the way abound.
The clouds are growing darker,
And hide the fading light;
The wind is sighing sadly,
Then cometh on the night.

Our hearts are growing weary;
Our eyes are fain to close;
The limbs relax in slumber
Oh, sweet will be repose.

Yet, ere the evening vanish,
Oh, let us rouse again,
And work awhile in earnest-
It may not be in vain.
Our task is uncompleted;
Oh, faint not in the light,
But work a little longer
Till day is lost in night.

MARIANNE FARNINGHAM,

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PUBLISHED BY JOHN ANDERS ON JUN55 NORTH BRIDGE STREET & EDINB

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JOHN ANDERSON, JUN. 55. NORTH BRIDGE-STREET;
BEILBY & KNOTTS, BIRMINGHAM; AND T. TEGG,
AND SIMPKIN & MARSHALL, LONDON.

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