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"Else they will come and smash the walls upon our mould'ring bones, And screaming mountain-birds will tear our flesh from out the stones.

"And, daughter, haste to do thy work, so thou mayst quickly come, And take with us our grateful rest, and share our peaceful home."

The sun behind the distant hills far-sinking down to sleep; A maiden on the lonesome moor, digging a grave so deep;

The moon above the craggy reek, silvering moor and wave, And the pale corpse of a maiden young stretched on a new made grave.

EARS and years ago it happened, On the farm where I was born, But it all comes back as clearly As the things of yestermorn. You boys living in the city Don't know half the fun we had Every Hallowe'en at husking, When your grandpa was a lad. I remember how your grandma Husked an ear and found it red; How I claimed the red-ear forfeit— Kissed her—and she hung her head. When the corn had all been garnered, And the husks were cleared away,