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 Hark, the call! O my spirit, why stay? Behold, she but stays, As a traveller tried, as one fain to step light on a journey, To lay off superfluous wealth, the body’s jewels and mats— Lo! Strength of the eyes....it is gone. Strength of the hand....Lo—gone! Sight of the mind, strength of the heart, the last— Are they not loosen’d already?— On, my soul, on!

Ah, Hanete, look! Old I was, but the seeds were all sown. O Rangi! O Papa! Receive them, and prosper the harvest.

...It darkens....the wind hath ceas’d. Let no moon shine....Is it mist? Ha, the leap from the rocks. ...Ha, the swirl of the seaweed disparting.... Still is the Sea! Still... .still!....

Janet—Hine!

Elizabeth—Hush! Look! Do you not see? She is asleep. Do not let us awake her; she is a very old woman.

Janet—I wonder how old?....Does she not look older than ever in her sleep? Ah, you poor, feeble