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And the moonlit pastures yearn to your side,
    And the forests beckon you.

Each night, each night ere my eyelids fall
    I shall feel you calling to me,
With a low persistent plaintive call.
    Like a sea-bird lost on the sea!

And I shall answer and you will hear,
    And above the wind and rain
The people a strange sobbing will hear;
    We shall be together again.

Oh that at this last hour
    The word might be given me
To tell you the power — the power
    That you have over me!