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Poem by Henry Newbolt
Among the Tombs
She is a lady fair and wise, Her heart her counsel keeps, And well she knows of time that flies And tide that onward sweeps; But still she sits with restless eyes Where Memory sleeps--- Where Memory sleeps. Ye that have heard the whispering dead In every wind that creeps, Or felt the stir that strains the lead Beneath the mounded heaps, Tread softly, ah! more softly tread Where Memory sleeps--- Where Memory sleeps.
Henry Newbolt's other poems:
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