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[122] Then let us stretch our hands in darkness,
And call our loved ones o'er and o'er;
Some day their arms shall close about us,
And the old voices speak once more.
No dreary splendors wait our coming
Where rapt ghost sits from ghost apart;
Homeward we go to Heaven's thanksgiving.
The harvest-gathering of the heart.
1870.
Boston and New York, Houghton, Mifflin and company, 1888-89.
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