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1839–1886

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Abram Joseph Ryan

We borrow, In our sorrow, From the sun of some to-morrow Half the light that gilds to-day;

And the splendor Flashes tender O'er hope's footsteps to defend her From the fears that haunt the way.

We never Here can sever Any now from the forever Interclasping near and far!

For each minute Holds within it All the hours of the infinite, As one sky holds every star.

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Listen · Abram Joseph Ryan · Poetry Cove