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(Hair to the waist,
Limbs like a Venus):
Robes are displaced:
"Soldiers, please screen us!
"He at the front?
That is my lover:
Stood all the brunt;—
Now—the fight's over.
"Powder and bread
Gave out together:
Droll to be dead
In this bright weather!
"Jean, boy, we might
Have married in June!
This is the wall? Right!
VIVE LA COMMUNE!"
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