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The Old Ones

Rating: 3.5

The old ones knew that black was hate,
White garment purity and red one sin;
They spoke the language of the trees
And opened veins to let love in.

These old ones, feeling life was brief
And brittle as the fire-baked shard,
Could find no seat for sentiment,
So mended weakness with a sword.

In them the heart was made of gold,
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