| All this I was doing over a man
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| In loneliness going across the bare moor
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| And through the blind night, in the pitch of the darkness
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| Lost from the high road
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| Through many riched fields
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| Down slopes that were soggy
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| Over stubble and furrow, with stumble and sorrow
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| Through nine thorny thickets by ruined old forts
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| To the brow of the mountain
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| And missing the box and their green habitation
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| Whose hateful companions circled around me
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| A fighter betrayed in the thick of the battle
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| A girl in a jail, a girl in a jail
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| But worse than the fogs of all desolation
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| Were the spirits of evil circling around m
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| And my crossing and praying, my charming and rhyme
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| Of little avail
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| This took a long time, but at last, I lookd up
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| And there were the stars
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| Like cherries, they were, in the orchard of night
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| All yellow and red, all shining and bright
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| The sparks of the bonfires for seven dear saints
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| The gems of the host and the harness of heaven
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| The pickets of embers whose orbits are long
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| And wind cannot take them
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| Wind cannot take them
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| I stopped in my tracks, «look you» I said
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| This is over and done he has got to be told
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| God forgive me the telling, I’ll travel no more
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| To the door of his dwelling, I’ll travel no more
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| Through any such goings, nor block my good acts
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| On the face of the stone |