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But that there rose a shout: the gates were closed
To follow: a shout arose again, and made
The long line of the approaching rookery swerve
I likewise, and in groups they stream'd away.
But we went back to the Abbey, and sat on, So much the gathering darkness charm'd : we sat Saying little, rapt in nameless reverie, Perchance upon the future man: the walls Blacken'd about us, bats wheel'd, and owls whoop'd, And gradually the powers of the night, That range above the region of the wind, Deepening the courts of twilight broke them up Thro' all the silent spaces of the worlds,
Last little Lilia, rising without sound, Disrobed the glimmering statue of Sir Ralph
From those rich silks, and home well-pleased we went.