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Chambers's Journal of Popular Literature, Science, and Art, No. 729, December 15, 1877

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2017
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Then was each hour too brief;
Now I but seek relief
From my consuming grief,
Rest from my woe.

Now falls the scalding tear,
Shed for the present drear;
Shed for the past so dear,
So quickly flown.
Over thy lonely grave,
Hard by the sounding wave,
Madly the wind-gusts rave;
I am alone.

Yes; but my whole life through
Leal have I been and true;
True shall I be to you,
As true as then;
Till when that life is o'er,
Skyward my soul shall soar,
And on the heavenly shore
We meet again.

    H. D.

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