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     The school-boy's humble name has flown;
Thine, in the green and quiet ways
     Of unobtrusive goodness known.

And wider yet in thought and deed
     Diverge our pathways, one in youth;
Thine the Genevan's sternest creed,
     While answers to my spirit's need
The Derby dalesman's simple truth.
     For thee, the priestly rite and prayer,
And holy day, and solemn psalm;
     For me, the silent reverence where
My brethren gather, slow and calm.

Yet hath thy spirit left on me
     An impress Time has worn not out,
And something of myself in thee,
     A shadow from the past, I see,
Lingering, even yet, thy way about;
     Not wholly can the heart unlearn
That lesson of its better hours,
     Not yet has Time's dull footstep worn
To common dust that path of flowers.

Thus, while at times before our eyes
     The shadows melt, and fall apart,
And, smiling through them, round us lies
     The warm light of our morning skies,—
The Indian Summer of the heart!
     In secret sympathies of mind,
In founts of feeling which retain

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