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"I should feel thy shadow if I were in my grave!"

Alice.

WHAT! feel my shadow o'er thy cool grave-rest?
Sweet! shadows never follow there—
We've done with shadows, when life's setting sun
Goes down upon our sepulchre.

As shadow-land we often speak of death,
But are there shadows without sun?
For sunless day, alas, would wrap thy grave—
And moonless night if thou wert gone.

No shadow then would haunt my falt'ring step,
If lost my sun in death's eclipse;
Thou gone! then welcome night's repose in Death,
Close by thy side, if still those lips.