Normale Version: AT REST
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" ' WHEN Greek meets Greek,' you know," he sadly said,
" ' Then comes the tug of war.' I deem him great,
And own him wise and good. Yet adverse fate
Hath made us enemies. If I were dead,

And buried deep with grave-mold on my head,
I still believe, that, came he soon or late
Where I was lying in my last estate,
My dust would quiver at his lightest tread ! "

The slow years passed; and one fair summer night,
When the low sun was reddening all the west,
I saw two grave-mounds, where the grass was bright,

Lying so near each other that the crest
Of the same wave touched each with amber light.
But, ah, dear hearts ! how undisturbed their rest !