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BEFORE THE DAWN
To still with presence kind my pulse's throbbing,
To lay a cooling touch upon my brow.
Tell me thy name! Then, pain and fear forgotten,
I straightway will arise and follow thee,
Who, as I think, art hither come to guide me
To larger hope and opportunity.
Tell me thy name! I long, I need, to hear it!
Thy name!—I may not plead, for failing breath,—
With look compassionate, the august stranger
Made answer very softly: "I am Death."
