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Strana 72 - Thou wilt not wake Till I thy fate shall overtake : Till age, or grief, or sickness must Marry my body to that dust It so much loves ; and fill the room My heart keeps empty in thy tomb. Stay for me there ; I will not fail To meet thee in that hollow vale.
Strana 72 - To meet thee in that hollow vale. And think not much of my delay; I am already on the way, And follow thee with all the speed Desire can make, or sorrows breed. Each minute is a short degree And every hour a step towards thee. At night when I betake to rest, Next morn I rise nearer my west Of life, almost by eight hours sail Than when sleep breathed his drowsy gale.
Strana 72 - Tis true, with shame and grief I yield, Thou like the van first took'st the field, And gotten hast the victory In thus adventuring to die Before me, whose more years might crave A just precedence in the grave. But hark ! my pulse, like a soft drum, Beats my approach, tells thee I come ; And slow howe'er my marches be, I shall at last sit down by thee. The thought of this bids me go on, And wait my dissolution With hope and comfort : Dear, (forgive The crime,) I am content to live Divided, with but...