< Page:Songs of the Soul (1923).djvu
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SONGS OF THE SOUL
Its body pines;
Yet its death ’s divine;
Through death and spurns
Its deathless glory won:
The rose is dead,—
Its beauty lives instead.
Yet its death ’s divine;
Through death and spurns
Its deathless glory won:
The rose is dead,—
Its beauty lives instead.
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