Page:Poems and extracts - Wordsworth.djvu/107

 Some remnant might be extant, of the true And faithful love, I ever tendered you. Oh! rest in peace, dear Friends, and let it be No pride to say, the sometime part of me. What pain and anguish doth afflict the head. The heart and stomach, when the limbs are dead.— So grieved I kiss your graves, resolved to die, A Foster-Father to your memory.

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