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POEMS. 83
��X. FORGOTTEN.
'"THERE is a word Which bears a sword
Can pierce an armed man. It hurls its barbed syllables,
At once is mute again. But where it fell The saved will tell
On patriotic day, Some epauletted brother
Gave his breath away.
Wherever runs the breathless sun, Wherever roams the day,
There is its noiseless onset, There is its victory !
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