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 TO MY SISTER

F I die to-morrow I shall go happily. With the flush of battle on my face I shall walk with an eager pace The road I cannot see.

My life burnt fiercely always, And fiercely will go out With glad wild fighting ringed around, But you will be above the ground And darkness all about.

You will not hear the shouting. You will not see the pride, Only with tortured memory Remember what I used to be, And dream of how I died.