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I
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
I have been your sparrow true;
Dig my grave, for I must die.
I have been your sparrow true;
Dig my grave, for I must die.
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Waste no tear and heave no sigh;
Life should still be blithe for you,
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
Life should still be blithe for you,
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
In your garden let me lie,
Underneath the pointed yew
Dig my grave, for I must die.
Underneath the pointed yew
Dig my grave, for I must die.
We have loved the quiet sky
With its tender arch of blue;
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
With its tender arch of blue;
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
That I still may feel you nigh,
In your virgin bosom, too,
Dig my grave, for I must die.
In your virgin bosom, too,
Dig my grave, for I must die.
Let our garden-friends that fly
Be the mourners, fit and few.
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
Dig my grave, for I must die.
Be the mourners, fit and few.
Little mistress mine, good-bye!
Dig my grave, for I must die.
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