thirteen

Faith hold who should to hope hard cling
as that final tally bell would ring;
whispered prayer which silence heard bring
forgiveness complete that angels might sing.

Faultless guilt of honest wrong seems binding
sepulchre, that duty’s honour hurt, unwinding;
lovers that crossed but not fated now finding
each other away their paths there, wandering.

Does he to she whom holds hard
dares hold a new born bard;
nary a rest day has his breast,
lest he be wanting in this test.

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