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- THE VALLEY OF THE BLACK PIG
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- THE dews drop slowly and dreams gather: unknown
- spears
- Suddenly hurtle before my dream-awakened eyes,
- And then the clash of fallen horsemen and the cries
- Of unknown perishing armies beat about my ears.
- We who still labour by the cromlech on the shore,
- The grey caim on the hill, when day sinks drowned in
- dew,
- Being weary of the world's empires, bow down to you.
- Master of the still stars and of the flaming door.
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