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withering
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I will find a place to cry,
In some calm land
Beside the sea to die;
Upon its strand
That no one weeps my end,
Nor for me grieves,
But let the autumn lend
Tongues to the leaves,
As I will then no more
An outcast be,
Let them with fondness store
My memory.
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Posted on : Dec 6, 2012
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