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In Memoriam A.H.H.
Still
onward winds the dreary way;
I with it; for I long to prove
No lapse of moons can canker Love,
Whatever
fickle tongues may say.
And
if that eye which watches guilt
And goodness, and hath power to see
Within the green the moulder’d tree,
And
towers fall’n as soon as built–
Oh,
if indeed that eye foresee
Or see (in Him is no before)
In more of life true life no more
And
Love the indifference to be,
Then
might I find, ere yet the morn
Breaks hither over Indian seas,
That Shadow waiting with the keys,
To
shroud me from my proper scorn.
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