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Show BESIDE "fHE BIER. Poor, cold, dead face; poor lips that weakly part, Irresolute, unchanged. Tho tear-drops start And shame the angry sorrow at my heart. Before they came, before the word was said, Before the watchers hovering round your bed Were yet aware, I knew that you were dead. How? How do captives know their chains are gone? How know the wounded that tho barb's withdrawn? with-drawn? ' '1 How does the darkness know of coming dawn? You were, the millstone of uncertain fate; Down, inch by inch, I sunk beneath the weight Till I was crushed, despairing, desolate. I do not blame. If, from eternity, You may look back, I hope that it "will be To learn how much you might have been to me. Mabel Porter Pitts in Town Talk. |