Xvi

I have striven for three whole years to forget; I have prayed, ay, grovelled to God; and yet At the glimpse of a pictured face, of a form That suggested yours—like a blighting storm The Past rose up, and in anguish cried, "Oh, fool! I live, it was You who died."

The Riverside Press Limited, Edinburgh

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Minor punctuation and printer errors repaired.

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