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[111] All hearts grew warmer in the presence
     Of one who, seeking not his own,
Gave freely for the love of giving,
     Nor reaped for self the harvest sown.

Thy greeting smile was pledge and prelude
     Of generous deeds and kindly words;
In thy large heart were fair guest-chambers,
     Open to sunrise and the birds!

The task was thine to mould and fashion
     Life's plastic newness into grace:
To make the boyish heart heroic,
     And light with thought the maiden's face.

O'er all the land, in town and prairie,
     With bended heads of mourning, stand
The living forms that owe their beauty
     And fitness to thy shaping hand.

Thy call has come in ripened manhood,
     The noonday calm of heart and mind,
While I, who dreamed of thy remaining
     To mourn me, linger still behind:

Live on, to own, with self-upbraiding,
     A debt of love still due from me,—
The vain remembrance of occasions,
     Forever lost, of serving thee.

It was not mine among thy kindred
     To join the silent funeral prayers,
But all that long sad day of summer
     My tears of mourning dropped with theirs.

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