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TRIADS
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

TRIADS

Three things that are gone for ever
Whén once they have pass'd away:
A man's and a woman's honour
And the life of Yesterday!
The last in our dreams returneth—
Though the wakening doubles pain;
But, however the sad heart yearneth,
Lost honour is sought in vain.
Two things that can never be mended
By penance or prayer or power:
The trust in a broken promise,
The growth of a sever'd flower!

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And a third that is yet more tender—
The hope of our trustful years:
Like the autumn's morning splendour,
Gone—gone in a waste of tears.
Three more should endure for ever:
The strength of a heavenward song,
The heart of a brave endeavour,
The pardon that meeteth wrong!
And three should be ever exhaustless—
Ay! four,—though the heavens depart:
True effort and faith and mercy
And the love of a loving heart.