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Poem by Amy Levy
In the Black Forest
I lay beneath the pine trees, And looked aloft, where, through The dusky, clustered tree-tops, Gleamed rent, gay rifts of blue. I shut my eyes, and a fancy Fluttered my sense around: ФI lie here dead and buried, And this is churchyard ground. ФI am at rest for ever; Ended the stress and strife.Ф Straight I fell to and sorrowed For the pitiful past life. Right wronged, and knowledge wasted; Wise labour spurned for ease; The sloth and the sin and the failure; Did I grow sad for these? They had made me sad so often; Not now they made me sad; My heart was full of sorrow For joy it never had.
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