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Poem by Lewis Morris
DOWN dropped the sun upon the sea, The gradual darkness filled the land ; Amid the twilight, silently, I felt the pressure of a hand. And a low voice: 'Have courage, friend. Be of good cheer, 'tis not for long ; He conquers who awaits the end, And dares to suffer and be strong.' I have seen many a land since then, Known many a joy and many a pain. Victor in many a strife of men, Vanquished again and yet again. The ancient sorrow now is not, Since time can heal the keenest smart ; Yet the vague memory, scarce forgot, Lingers deep down within the heart. Still, when the ruddy flame of gold Fades into gray on sea and land, I hear the low sweet voice of old, I feel the pressure of a hand.
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