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Poem

I THOUGHT of Thee, my partner and my guide,
   As being pass’d away.–Vain sympathies!
   For, backward, Duddon! as I cast my eyes,
I see what was, and is, and will abide;
Still glides the Stream, and shall for ever glide;
   The Form remains, the Function never dies;
   While we, the brave, the mighty, and the wise,
We Men, who in our morn of youth defied
The elements, must vanish;–be it so!
   Enough, if something from our hands have power
   To live, and act, and serve the future hour;
And if, as toward the silent tomb we go,
   Through love, through hope, and faith’s transcendent dower,
We feel that we are greater than we know.

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