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 Of youth, have had no cleasing agent in them To dim the picture. I still see him going Away from where I stood; and I shall see him Longer, sometime, than I shall see the face Of whosoever watches by the bed On which I die—given I die that way. I doubt if he could reason his advantage In living any longer after that Among the rest of us. The lad he slandered, Or gave a negative immunity No better than a stone he might have thrown Behind him at his head, was of the few I might have envied; and for that being known, My fury became sudden history, And I a sudden hero. But the crown I wore was hot; and I would happily Have hurled it, if I could, so far away