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death poem

they may talk of love in a cottage
there were three in the meadow by the brook
it tells of good old times
here falls no light
be not false
that strange companion came on shuffling feet
birds against the april wind
beside a stricken field
lived by the river-side
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
good woman
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
she was a beauty in the days

 



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