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In Memoriam A.H.H.

         
            XCIII.
             
      I shall not see thee. Dare I say
          No spirit ever brake the band
          That stays him from the native land
      Where first he walk’d when claspt in clay?

      No visual shade of some one lost,
          But he, the Spirit himself, may come
          Where all the nerve of sense is numb;
      Spirit to Spirit, Ghost to Ghost.

      O, therefore from thy sightless range
          With gods in unconjectured bliss,
          O, from the distance of the abyss
      Of tenfold-complicated change,

      Descend, and touch, and enter; hear
          The wish too strong for words to name;
          That in this blindness of the frame
      My Ghost may feel that thine is near.
       


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