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From midnight until dawn I watched the dead,
Musing the mysteries of Life and Death;
Then, in the wan light of that silent hour,
Blew out the flickering taper, which left trail
Toward the morning star a thread of cloud,
And folding back the drapery from his face —
The drapery that all night had languidly
Moved with the languid current of the wind —
I gazed upon the eyes that never more
Could look on earth. A cool, ethereal breeze
Swept through the chamber, and when it had passed
It seemed that he had sighed — not wearily,
But like one that has spent a weary night
And feels the blissfulness of rest at last.
His fond wish had been granted. He had died
Away from the tumultuous city wheels,
Had seen great sunsets closing azure days
And quiet moonlight silvering ancient trees,
Had heard the morning music of the birds,
Had smelt sweet grasses in the heat of noon,
Breathed the aroma of the evening shower,
And from his open window watched the stars
Glide into night's divine processional.
His was the saddest fate — to love and lose;
And then, most pitiful, to strive for fame
And die with finger-tips against the wreath.
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