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LX. [Now hollow fires burn out to black,]

by A. E. Housman, 1896

Now hollow fires burn out to black,
 And lights are guttering low:
Square your shoulders, lift your pack,
 And leave your friends and go.

Oh never fear, man, nought's to dread,
 Look not left nor right:
In all the endless road you tread
 There's nothing but the night.

Published in A Shropshire Lad

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