| Justine upon thy silent tomb the dews of eving weep |
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| On bending stalk a bonny flower |
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| Fair forms of glistening marble stand around |
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| A Week ago September dead October's moon set in |
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| Let us drive care away |
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| Gilbert |
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| Why should we ever mourn as those |
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| No harp on earth can breathe a tone |
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| Speak of the North! |
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| We wove a web in childhood |
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