Chapter XLI
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O secret taciturn disdainful Death!
Knowing all this, why hast thou held thy peace?
Master of Silence, thou wilt waste no breath
On weaklings, nor to stiffen nerveless knees
Deny strong men the conquest of one qualm--
And they, thy dauntless comrades, are at ease,
And need no speech, and greet thee calm for calm.
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Seaward: An Elegy on the Death of Thomas William ParsonsChapter XLI
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