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funeral poem

up from the south at break of day
sleep, gray brother of death
moonlight deep and tender
i think it just splendid
the saddest of the year
for these white arms about my neck
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
a mile behind
you are clear
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
now for a brisk and cheerful fight
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i have cast the world

 



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