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I see a city with a concourse vast Of gas-lit streets and buildings, and above, Its dear face buried in its cloudy hands, The Night bends over, weeping. In the street I see the face again I saw to-day.

I see him writing in a narrow room. I read the words:

To-night I end my life. The river says "Embrace, I offer rest." The world and I have grappled in fair fight, And I am beaten. Having found defeat, I long to go down to its lowest depths. I only ask, that those who find these words, Will send them to my people past the sea; To-night I cross a wider: so, adieu.

This is his true name, And afterward he writes his wife's address. He leaves the paper foldless on a stand, And then goes forth; but not to end his life. He dreams that now his life is but begun. He sees my Grace in all his coming days; He sees the large old farm-house where she dwells, And therein hopes to happily pass the years, Living in peace and plenty till he dies.