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POWN dropped the sun upon the sea, 
The gradual darkness filled the land, 
^ And ’mid the twilight, silently, 
I felt the pressure of a hand. 
And a low voice: “ Have courage, friend, 
, Be of good cheer, his not for long ; 
He conquers who awaits the end, 
And dares to suffer and be strong.’’ 
I have seen many a land since then, 
Known many a joy and many a pain, 
Victor in many a strife of men, 
Vanquished again and yet again. 
The ancient sorrow now is not, 
Since time can heal the keenest smart; 
Yet the vague memory, scarce forgot, 
Lingers deep down- within the heart. . 
Still, when the ruddy flame of gold 
Fades into gray on sea and land, 
I hear the low sweet voice of old, 
I feel the pressure of a hand. 
Lewis Morris 
