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The wealth of all earth's unbounded gold,
Or life with its sweet, sad joys untold--
The worth of a patriot's love.“
As his blood the message quicker stirred
The boy's bright arteries through--
“I well remember every word,”
He said; “and the angels, who must have heard,
They will remember too.”
Then clasped as a mother clasps who stands
Alone between love and death,
Unfelt where the spectral chilly hands
That softly tighten the soothing bands
Over the failing breath.
Mother and child, as the fire burned low,
Slept on the earth's cold breast;
The night passed by, and the morning slow
Broke the veil of cloud o'er the stainless snow,
But never their perfect rest.
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