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DIRGES AND PATHETIC
"For when sad thoughts possess the mind of man,
There is a plummet in the heart that weighs
And pulls us living to the dust we came from." - BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.
THE wanton troopers, riding by,
Them any harm, alas! nor could
And nothing may we use in vain; Even beasts must be with justice slain, Else men are made their deodands. Though they should wash their guilty hands
In this warm life-blood which doth part
From thine, and wound me to the heart,
Yet could they not be clean, their stain
Is dyed in such a purple grain.
It is a wondrous thing how fleet 'Twas on those little silver feet; With what a pretty skipping grace It oft would challenge me the race; And, when it had left me far away, 'Twould stay and run again and stay;
For it was nimbler much than hinds, And trod as if on the four winds.
I have a garden of my own,
Among the beds of lilies I
Yet could not, till itself would rise,