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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 incessantly softly  
 wash again, and ever again, this soil'd world;
  [ begin page 251 ]ppp.00707.259.jpg For my enemy is dead, a man divine as myself is dead, I look where he lies white-faced and still in the coffin—I draw  
Bend down and touch lightly with my lips the white face in the  

Part of the cluster DRUM-TAPS.

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