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I saw the Sharon roses,
And Mary lilies pale,
Pure cup that never closes,
The Vessel of the Grail.
The happy saints were winging
To their deserved joys:
I heard the angels singing,
And, 'mid the martyr boys
I saw, ere vision left me,
The dearly-loved dark head
Of one so late bereft me;
I knew not he was dead!
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