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"Black his eye as the midnight sky. White his neck as the driven snow, Red his cheek as the morning light; Cold he lies in the ground below. My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed, ys All under the cactus tree." "Each lonely scene shall thee restore, For thee the tear be duly shed; Belov'd till life can charm no more, And mourned till Pity's self be dead."
And thanne un to Mount Modeyn: and thanne unto Jerusalem. And at the Mount Modeyn lythe the prophete Machabee. And overe Ramatha, ys the town of Douke; where of Amos the goude prophete was. A nother way.
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