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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            XI.
             
      Calm is the morn without a sound,
          Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
          And only thro’ the faded leaf
      The chestnut pattering to the ground:

      Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
          And on these dews that drench the furze,
          And all the silvery gossamers
      That twinkle into green and gold:

      Calm and still light on yon great plain
          That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
          And crowded farms and lessening towers,
      To mingle with the bounding main:

      Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
          These leaves that redden to the fall;
          And in my heart, if calm at all,
      If any calm, a calm despair:

      Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
          And waves that sway themselves in rest,
          And dead calm in that noble breast
      Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
       


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