To you, who look below, 
   Where little candles glow -- 
Who listen in a narrow street, 
Confused with noise of passing feet -- 
To you 'tis wild and dark; 
   No light, no guide, no ark, 
For travellers lost on moor and lea, 
And ship-wrecked mariners at sea. 
But they who stand apart, 
   With hushed but wakeful heart -- 
They hear the lulling of the gale, 
And see the dawn-rise faint and pale. 
A dawn whereto they grope 
   In trembling faith and hope, 
If haply, brightening, it may cast 
A gleam on path and goal at last.                
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