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<h2> Good Hours </h2>
<p>I HAD for my winter evening walk—<br/>
No one at all with whom to talk,<br/>
But I had the cottages in a row<br/>
Up to their shining eyes in snow.<br/>
And I thought I had the folk within:<br/>
I had the sound of a violin;<br/>
I had a glimpse through curtain laces<br/>
Of youthful forms and youthful faces.<br/>
I had such company outward bound.<br/>
I went till there were no cottages found.<br/>
I turned and repented, but coming back<br/>
I saw no window but that was black.<br/>
Over the snow my creaking feet<br/>
Disturbed the slumbering village street<br/>
Like profanation, by your leave,<br/>
At ten o'clock of a winter eve.<br/></p>
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