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PLORANS PLORAVIT, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: She sits alone on the cold grave-stone
Last Line: But their souls are with god in glory.'


SHE sits alone on the cold grave-stone
And only the dead are nigh her;
In the tongue of the Gael she makes her wail:
The night wind rushes by her.

'Few, oh few are the leal and true,
And fewer shall be, and fewer;
The land is a corse; no life, no force:
O wind with sere leaves strew her!

'Men ask what scope is left for hope
To one who has known her story: --
I trust her dead! The graves are red;
But their souls are with God in glory.'





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