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On the way to Golconda , I sought kind Death among the rills That drink of purple twilight where the plain Broods in the shadow of untroubled hills: I cried, "High dreams and hope and love are vain, Absolve my spirit of its poignant ills, And cleanse me from the bondage of my pain!

"Shall hope prevail where clamorous hate is rife, Shall sweet love prosper or high dreams find place Amid the tumult of reverberant strife 'Twixt ancient creeds, 'twixt race and ancient race, That mars the grave, glad purposes of life, Leaving no refuge save thy succouring face?" 25