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XIX.

When face to face I stood
With the dim form by death already veiled,
When heart and spirit quailed
Already at life's o'ershadowing solitude,—
Then—though in days gone by
It needed not a cry
To bring sweet answer from the lips divine
That were alive, and mine—

92

Then—though the slightest plea
Brought answer back to me
Once—then my soul's most hopeless moan
Wrung forth no answer from thy lips of stone.