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THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH. Yet our twin spirits, well I know— Though one abide in pain below— Love, as in summers long ago,
 * And evermore shall love.

So with a glad and patient heart
 * I move toward mine end:

The streams, that flow awhile apart,
 * Shall both in ocean blend.

I dare not weep: I can but bless The Love that pitied my distress, And lent me, in Life's wilderness,
 * So sweet and true a friend.

But if there be—O if there be
 * A truth in what they say,

That angel-forms we cannot see
 * Go with us on our way;

Then surely she is with me here, I dimly feel her spirit near— The morning-mists grow thin and clear,
 * And Death brings in the Day.

April, 1868.

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