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 THE CURSE AT FAREWELL

It spread above your wearied limbs at rest

A hospitable shade, and on your eyes

Rained happy dreams, fanning with gentle sighs.

Ah, comrade, for the last time sit, and old

Communion with its proved affection hold |

But one half-hour! No loss to heaven will

fall.

KACH

Fresh in my mind in this last hour are all These constant friends. New nets of love they weave In eager yearning, binding, as I leave, With beauty that till now I never knew,— Their last appeal. O Forest-King, to you I humbly bow, to you the friend of those That seek your shelter. Where you inter- pose

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