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Underwoods by Robert Louis Stevenson
page 25 of 83 (30%)
These dying, sound the triumph over death.
Behold! each greatly breathes; each tastes a joy
Unknown before, in dying; for each knows
A hero dies with him - though unfulfilled,
Yet conquering truly - and not dies in vain

So is pain cheered, death comforted; the house
Of sorrow smiles to listen. Once again -
O thou, Orpheus and Heracles, the bard
And the deliverer, touch the stops again!


XVII - HENRY JAMES


Who comes to-night? We ope the doors in vain.
Who comes? My bursting walls, can you contain
The presences that now together throng
Your narrow entry, as with flowers and song,
As with the air of life, the breath of talk?
Lo, how these fair immaculate women walk
Behind their jocund maker; and we see
Slighted DE MAUVES, and that far different she,
GRESSIE, the trivial sphynx; and to our feast
DAISY and BARB and CHANCELLOR (she not least!)
With all their silken, all their airy kin,
Do like unbidden angels enter in.
But he, attended by these shining names,
Comes (best of all) himself - our welcome James.

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