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XXXI
[Though death should draw thee from this fair domain]
Though death should draw thee from this fair domain,And with a little clay seal up thine eyes,
And turn to common air thy breathèd sighs,
And make thy tears but drops of April rain;
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And, fed with summer glories, newly rise,
And echoed music of thy lost replies
Be sung once more by birds about the plain:
For Beauty ne'er hath limned a fairer face,
Nor Truth and Love e'er lit a brighter eye;
And surely He who is the Lord of grace
Will never let such truth and beauty die;
But though they change their mortal dwelling-place,
Their shows shall still survive beneath the sky.
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