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Sorrowful Land

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    Strew on her roses, roses
    And never a spray of yew
    In quiet she reposes
    Ah! Would that I did too

    Her mirth the world required
    She bathed it in smiles of glee
    But her heart was tired, tired
    And now they let her be

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    Her life was turning, turning
    In mazes of heat and sound
    But for peace her soul was yearning
    And now peace laps her round

    Her cabin'd, ample Spirit
    It flutter'd and fail'd for breath
    To-night it doth inherit
    The vasty hall of Death

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