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LOVE CONQUERS DEATH
Love conquers Death by night and day,
Beguiles him long of his destined prey;
And when, at last, that seems to perish
Which he hath striven still to cherish,
Love plucks the soul from the fallen clay.
Death is not master, but Love's slave:
He smites the timid and the brave;
Yet as he fares, with sweet low laughter,
Love, the sower, follows after,
Scattering seed in each new-made grave!
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