Poem of the day
In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: Part 071
by Alfred Lord Tennyson
Sleep, kinsman thou to death and trance
And madness, thou hast forged at last
A night-long Present of the Past
In which we went thro' summer France.
Hadst thou such credit with the soul?
Then bring an opiate trebly strong,
Drug down the blindfold sense of wrong
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