To the poor carpenter it seemed an endless distance. “And that only brings me up to about sixty-five! “A glittering wilderness of time That to the sunset reaches No keel as yet its waves has ploughed Or gritted on its beaches. As silent as she had remained about who had brought her home last night. It was denied him, for as he closed his eyes—though but for an instant—the whole scene of his former visit to the place rose before him.
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