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Part of the cluster DRUM-TAPS.


WORD over all, beautiful as the sky! Beautiful that war, and all its deeds of carnage, must  
 in time be utterly lost;
That the hands of the sisters Death and Night, inces- 
 santly softly wash again, and ever again, this  
 soil'd world:
…For my enemy is dead—a man divine as myself is  
I look where he lies, white-faced and still, in the coffin  
 —I draw near;
I bend down, and touch lightly with my lips the white  
 face in the coffin.

Part of the cluster DRUM-TAPS.

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