My Comrade

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I NEVER build a song by night or day,
  Of breaking ocean or of blowing whin,
But in some wondrous unexpected way,
  Like light upon a road, my Love comes in.

And when I go at night upon the hill,  
  My heart is lifted on mysterious wings:
My Love is there to strengthen and to still,
  For she can take away the dread of things.

© Edwin Markham