A flutter of rose, a living green
Like new leaves on a tree.
The wall’s now gotten many a chink
Where whoso leans may hear
The feet of them who pass to drink
All at a well clear.
The people go, the people flow
T’other side o’ the wall
With silken rustle and laughter low
As to a festival.
Come mother and wife and piteous bride,
The wall’s nigh broken through;
And there be some the other side
That peep and pry for you.
So thin has grown, like a precious stone,
The wall no eye might pass,
You may have vision of your own
As through a crystal glass.
And if that sight should you delight
Your tears will all be dried,
For souls so bright that walk in white
Dear bliss on the other side.

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