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Dirge

 Boys and girls that held her dear,
Do your weeping now;
All you loved of her lies here.
Brought to earth the arrogant brow, And the withering tongue Chastened; do your weeping now.
Sing whatever songs are sung, Wind whatever wreath, For a playmate perished young, For a spirit spent in death.
Boys and girls that held her dear, All you loved of her lies here.

Poem by Ralph Waldo Emerson
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