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THE HOUR


COME let us take this hour and hold it up
   While our stars shine,
Leaving our joy untouched, as in a cup
   Of unspilt wine;
Then, though the deluge break and we be driven
   Into the grave,
Like gods unto the gods we shall have given
   The gift they gave.



OBSEQUIES


INCH by inch — for it takes some time, this thing —
   You have killed my love;
Till at last a look, a gesture, an anything
   Did fatal prove.
And now, ah now, how desperately you cling
   To its dead bier.
As tho' thro' your calm breast passed the same sting
   That laid it here!