Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf/161

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IN THE TWILIGHT
 
Ask nothing more of the day,
Not whether night be away,
Not whether comfort be near,

Seek not after a token;
Ask not what of the night,
Nor what the end of it brings:
Seek after none of these things.
What though nothing were spoken,
Nothing, though all we were broken,
Shewn as seen of the light?

What if the morning awake
Never of us to be seen?
Yet, if we die, if we live,
That which we have will we give,
That which is with us we take,
Borne in our hands for her sake
Who shall be and is and hath been.

She though we die we shall find
Surely, though far she be fled,
Nay, if we find not at last,
We, though we die and go past,
Yet shall we leave her behind,
Leave to the sons of our kind
Men that come after us dead.

These shall say of us then;
"Freedom they had not as we,

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