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my soul is a dark ploughed field
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
you say you love me
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
that year
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
there was a time in former years
have you seen walking through the village
there by the window in the old house
gaily through the fields we danced
if the red slayer think he slays

 



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