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MAJOR ROBERT GREGORY
11
11
Some burn damp fagots, others may consume
The entire combustible world in one small room
As though dried straw, and if we turn about
The bare chimney is gone black out
Because the work had finished in that flare.
Soldier, scholar, horseman, he,
As 'twere all life's epitome.
What made us dream that he could comb grey hair?
12
I had thought, seeing how bitter is that wind
That shakes the shutter, to have brought to mind
