Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 159

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CLIX
Are the dead as calm as those
They leave behind them, friends or foes

However a man may love or fight
Calm 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 flame
For the Sun from whence it came?

Driven on from star to star,
Where the other dead men are?

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