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1865–1940

IV

Laurence Alma-Tadema

Farewell! you cannot go from me, my dear, For I have closed you in my inmost heart, Beyond the reach of earthly things that part The loving from the loved. Now far or near

Ceases to be; I am where you are; here Or there, no matter. Mild should be the smart Of leave-taking, where nothing stays apart But what is mortal, and where souls are clear.

Beloved! I can but lose you earthly-wise; The hunger of the years is stilled; no pain Of solitude can chill my heart again, Possessing you. Therefore with steadfast eyes

I say farewell, O brother! nor dare weep My little loss, with all this wealth to keep.

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IV · Laurence Alma-Tadema · Poetry Cove