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To My Brother

Give me your hand, my brother, search my face;  
Look in these eyes lest I should think of shame;  
For we have made an end of all things base.  
We are returning by the road we came.  

Your lot is with the ghosts of soldiers dead,
And I am in the field where men must fight.  
But in the gloom I see your laurell’d head  
And through your victory I shall win the light.

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