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Guiterman
 
Arthur Guiterman
1871-1943

 
"For All Who Mourn"

 
That he was near to you
so many a year
But darkens your distress.
Would you he were
less worthy and less dear
That you might grieve the less?

He was a golden font
that freely poured
What goldenly endures,
And though that font be gone,
its bounty stored
and treasured
Still is yours.

The past is deathless.
Souls are wells too deep
To spend their purest gains.
All that he gave to you
is yours to keep
While memory remains.
Who never had and lost,
forlorn are they
Far more than you and I
Who had and have.
Judge not the price we pay
For love that cannot die.

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