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Phillis Wheatley

GRIM monarch! see, depriv'd of vital breath,

A young physician in the dust of death:

Dost thou go on incessant to destroy,

Our griefs to double, and lay waste our joy?

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verb

To try not to meet or communicate with (a person); to shun

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Crossing the Bar

16 lines
Alfred, Lord Tennyson·1809–1892·Victorian
unset and evening star,
And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
When I put out to sea,
 
But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
Turns again home.
 
Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
When I embark;
 
For though from out our bourne of Time and Place
The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
When I have crost the bar.