| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | XIV. This Is Thy Hour Requiescat | | By Alfred, Lord Tennyson (18091892) |
| | | FAIR is her cottage in its place, | |
| Where yon broad water sweetly slowly glides | |
| It sees itself from thatch to base | |
| Dream in the sliding tides. | |
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| And fairer she, but ah how soon to die! | 5 |
| Her quiet dream of life this hour may cease. | |
| Her peaceful being slowly passes by | |
| To some more perfect peace. | | | | |
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