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RECONCILIATION.
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
dead;
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.