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Marta of Milrone |
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I shot him where the Rio flows;
I shot him when the moon arose; And where he lies the vulture knows Along the Tinto River. But where she lies to none is known
Save to my poor heart and a lonely stone On which I sit and weep alone Where the cactus stars are white. Where I shall lie, no man can say;
The flowers all are fallen away; The desert is so drear and grey, 0 Marta of Milrone! Herman Schefauer. |
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