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And hear thy sweet "my father from these dumb
And cold lips, Absalom !
"The grave hath won thee. I shall hear the gush Of music, and the voices of the
young; And life will pass me in the mantling blush,
And the dark tresses to the soft winds flung;« But thou no more, with thy sweet voice, shalt come
To meet me, Absalom ! " And, oh! when I am stricken, and my heart,
Like a bruised reed, is waiting to be broken, How will its love for thee, as I depart,
Yearn for thine ear to drink its last deep token! It were so sweet, amid death's gathering gloom,
To see thee, Absalom !
“And now, farewell! 'Tis hard to give thee up,
With death so like a gentle slumber on thee :And thy dark sin !-Oh! I could drink the cup,
If from this wo its bitterness had won thee. May God have called thee, like a wanderer, home,
My erring Absalom!"
up his face, and bowed himself