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44 All hands dropped down—all War's red cost Laid there in ashes—Hope and Hate And Shame and Glory!

Death and Fate Fall back! Another touch is thine; He drank not of thy poisoned wine, Nor blindly met thy blind-thrown lance, Nor died for sightless time or chance— But waited, suffered, bowed and tried, Till all the dross was purified; Till every well of hate was dried; And North and South in sorrow vied, And then—at God's own calling—died!