Chapter_43

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Not for them the length’ning shadows

Falling coldly round our lives,

Nearer, nearer through the ages

Life’s new spring for them arrives.

Not for them the doubt and anguish

Of an old and loveless age,

Dropping sadly tears of sorrow

On life’s faded, blotted page.

Not for them the mournful dimming

Of the weary, tear-stained eye,

That has seen the sad procession

Of its dearest hopes go by.

Not for them the hopeless clinging

To life’s worn and feeble strands,

Till the last has ceased to tremble

In our agèd, withered hands.

Never lines of light and darkness

Thread the brows forever fair,

And the eldest of the angels

Seems the youngest brother there.

There the stream of life doth never

Cross the mournful plains of death,

And the pearly gates are ever

Closed against his icy breath.