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The
Boy's Return
The
light sinks without sound.
The
fox at home will leave no
mark.
And
still the wheeling of the
lark
As
it falls to the ground,
Is
brought in by the hound.
The
sun now falls away,
and at last I've
Seen
the boy's finished
for today.
He
walks back fast,
past new cut
hay
And
he's sorry
that he's
killed life,
Yet
tomorrow
he'll
forget,
this new
strife.
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