Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 159

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CLIX
Are the dead as calm as thoseThey leave behind them, friends or foes
However a man may love or fightCalm he falls asleep at night!
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Fast the living sleeps and well;But the spirits—who can tell?
Are they as a rushing flameFor the Sun from whence it came?
Driven on from star to star,Where the other dead men are?

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