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To E.T.: 1917
By Walter De La Mare
You sleep too well - too far away,
For sorrowing word to soothe or wound;
Your very quiet seems to say
How longed-for a peace you have found.
Else, had not death so lured you on,
You would have grieved - 'twixt joy and fear -
To know how my small loving son
Had wept for you, my dear.
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