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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            XCII.
             
      If any vision should reveal
          Thy likeness, I might count it vain
          As but the canker of the brain;
      Yea, tho’ it spake and made appeal

      To chances where our lots were cast
          Together in the days behind,
          I might but say, I hear a wind
      Of memory murmuring the past.

      Yea, tho’ it spake and bared to view
          A fact within the coming year;
          And tho’ the months, revolving near,
      Should prove the phantom-warning true,

      They might not seem thy prophecies,
          But spiritual presentiments,
          And such refraction of events
      As often rises ere they rise.
       


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