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EULALIE |
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2 Streamlet, chanting at her feet Mournful music, sad and sweet, Wake her not, she dreams of me, "Neath the yew-tree, Eulalie! .Eulalie, but yester-night, Came a spirit veiled in white; I knew it could be none but thee, Bride of Death, lost Eulalie, |
3 Angels, guard her with your wings. Shield her from unholy things, Bid her dream love-dreams of me,—. Till 1 come, sleep, Eulalie! Blue-birds, linger here awhile, O'er this sacred, grassy pile, Sing your sweetest songs to me—. 'Tis the grave of Eulalie, |
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