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[Page 447]

for the mere sound of his
step & the touch of his
dear hand as after some
nights dream when the hand
I lost return I awake to
the double misery of loss &
grief so they too awake to
the memory of the present –
The knowledge of that parting
that lies before them.

––

"Too late"! were your words
more pregnant with the
tragedy of many dispairs
than these – they seem to
express the sorrowful irony
of fate which decries that
he who makes not opportunity
his slave not for him shall