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Rh Not without sin, O brother, Hast thou come forth alone &#59; But who am I to judge thee ? How should I cast a stone ? Wounded and smirched with battle, Righting thy soul at last &#59; Would I had fought beside thee ! — Oh for the danger past ! I am the meaner now, friend &#59; Say, canst thou stoop to me ? Thou, with thy crown of suffering — Thou who by right art free. Wilt thou receive me, brother? Thou art the teacher now : Life has grown strangely sacred, Low at thy feet I bow. There is a hidden conflict, — Thorns for the victor&#39;s brow.