< Page:Astrophel and other poems (IA astrophelotherpo00swiniala).pdf
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THE BROTHERS.
There were twa brethren fell on strife;
Sweet fruits are sair to gather:
The tane has reft his brother of life;
And the wind wears owre the heather.
There were twa brethren fell to fray;
Sweet fruits are sair to gather:
The tane is clad in a cloak of clay;
And the wind wears owre the heather.
O loud and loud was the live man's cry,
(Sweet fruits are sair to gather)
'Would God the dead and the slain were I!'
And the wind wears owre the heather.
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