VII.
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n valleys green and stillWhere lovers wander mayingThey hear from over hillA music playing. Behind the drum and fife,Past hawthornwood and hollow,Through earth and out of lifeThe soldiers follow. The soldier's is the trade:In any wind or weatherHe steals the heart of maidAnd man together. The lover and his lassBeneath the hawthorn lyingHave heard the soldiers pass,And both are sighing. And down the distance theyWith dying note and swellingWalk the resounding wayTo the still dwelling.
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