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THE • YEAR'S • AT • THE • SPRING
Swart crows sat huddled on the ground
Disconsolately,
While overhead the seamews wheeled, and skirled
In glee;
But the black cows stood, and cropped where they stood,
And never heeded thee,
O dark pale man, with the weary eyes,
On the road to Withernsea.
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