A fluttering bevy left the gate With hurried steps, and sped away; And then a coach with drooping freight, Wrapped in its film of dusty gray, Stopped; and the pastor and his mate Stepped forth, and passed the waiting door, And closed it on the gazing street. "Oh Philip!" She could say no more. "Oh Mildred! You're at home, my sweet,-- The old life closed: the new before!"…
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