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SONGS OF THE SOUL

TATTERED GARMENT

Oh, sing no plaintive layWhen at last my earthly raiment dies,Nor let ashes tell thy tears where it lies;Oh, blow my tattered garment’s dust away!
The dust clean washed,The hidden gold beneath will showItself anew all bright and brushed,And shine somewhere aglow,—
And wait with luring lustreFor some home-lorn soulTo show the path with lightening glimmerFrom darkness on to goal.

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