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In Memoriam A.H.H.
Sleep,
kinsman thou to death and trance
And madness, thou hast forged at last
A night-long Present of the Past
In
which we went thro’ summer France.
Hadst
thou such credit with the soul?
Then bring an opiate trebly strong,
Drug down the blindfold sense of wrong
That
so my pleasure may be whole;
While
now we talk as once we talk’d
Of men and minds, the dust of change,
The days that grow to something strange,
In
walking as of old we walk’d
Beside
the river’s wooded reach,
The fortress, and the mountain ridge,
The cataract flashing from the bridge,
The
breaker breaking on the beach.
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