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first came the primrose, / On the bank high, …
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NOR force nor fraud shall sunder us! O ye / Who north or south, or east or western land, …
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Wheel me into the sunshine, / Wheel me into the shadow, …
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In the hall the coffin waits, and the idle armourer stands. / At his belt the coffin nails, and the hammer in his hands. …
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The murmur of the mourning ghost / That keeps the shadowy kine, …
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Turn, turn, for my cheeks they burn, / Turn by the dale, my Harry! …
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“ho, sailor of the sea! / How ’s my boy—my boy?” …