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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            XVII.
             
      Thou comest, much wept for: such a breeze
          Compell’d thy canvas, and my prayer
          Was as the whisper of an air
      To breathe thee over lonely seas.

      For I in spirit saw thee move
          Thro’ circles of the bounding sky,
          Week after week: the days go by:
      Come quick, thou bringest all I love.

      Henceforth, wherever thou may’st roam,
          My blessing, like a line of light,
          Is on the waters day and night,
      And like a beacon guards thee home.

      So may whatever tempest mars
          Mid-ocean, spare thee, sacred bark;
          And balmy drops in summer dark
      Slide from the bosom of the stars.

      So kind an office hath been done,
          Such precious relics brought by thee;
          The dust of him I shall not see
      Till all my widow’d race be run.
       


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