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<h3 id="id00537" style="margin-top: 3em"> THE WINDOW ON THE HILL</h3>
<p id="id00538"> Among the fields the camomile<br/>
Seems blown mist in the lightning's glare:<br/>
Cool, rainy odors drench the air;<br/>
Night speaks above; the angry smile<br/>
Of storm within her stare.<br/></p>
<p id="id00539"> The way that I shall take to-night<br/>
Is through the wood whose branches fill<br/>
The road with double darkness, till,<br/>
Between the boughs, a window's light<br/>
Shines out upon the hill.<br/></p>
<p id="id00540"> The fence; and then the path that goes<br/>
Around a trailer-tangled rock,<br/>
Through puckered pink and hollyhock,<br/>
Unto a latch-gate's unkempt rose,<br/>
And door whereat I knock.<br/></p>
<p id="id00541"> Bright on the oldtime flower place<br/>
The lamp streams through the foggy pane;<br/>
The door is opened to the rain:<br/>
And in the door—her happy face<br/>
And outstretched arms again.<br/></p>
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