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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