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I knew thou hadst no charmed shore,
I knew thy people die,
Yet never felt I so before
The cold reality;
For now hath mournful fancy sped,
And many a lesson brings,
Since o'er one city of thy dead
She droops awhile her wings!

And, let her roam from pole to pole,
'Neath stormy skies or clear,
Still doth she whisper to my soul,
“The dead, the dead are here!”
Yea, all the differences of life
Are merged in one close tie;
Here endeth feud, here ceaseth strife,
For all who live must die.
There is no bond of grief or mirth,
No link of land or faith,
Like that strong chain that binds all Earth
The brotherhood of Death!

The departed.

Park Benjamin.
The departed! the departed!
They visit us in dreams,
And they glide above our memories,
Like shadows over streams;

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