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My Own

Rating: 2.9
Then let them point my every tear,
And let them mock and moan;
Another week, another year,
And I'll be with my own

Who slumber now by night and day
In fields of level brown;
Whose hearts within their breasts were clay
Before they laid them down.
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COMMENTS
Lindbergh Hughes 19 November 2009
Very touchable and romantic, too!
1 0 Reply

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