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M. W. B.

They tell me thou art laid to rest,
Companion of my happiest years!
That thou hast joined the loved and blest,
Whose early graves are wet with tears,—
That I shall never hear again
The voice that charmed my boyhood's ear,
Nor meet among the haunts of men
Thy honest grasp of love sincere.

Friend of my youth! my buried friend!
Thy step was gayest in the ring,—
My thoughts far back through childhood wend,
And can I now thy requiem sing?

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