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Then thought they: "The maid to the tomb is now borne;
We too from our dwellings ere long must be torn,My sluber broken and my doublet torn,
I find the laurel also bears a thorn.The Autumn mourns her rip'ning corn
By early Winter's ravage torn;Craters form
High ground being tornLightning-torn;
August bears corn,the Earth is rent and torn,
As if she should be clear dissolv'd,
or from the Center born.'The keenness of the world hath torn
The heart which opens to its blast;
Despised, neglected, and forlorn,The hedge on high is quick with thorn,
And climbing for the prize, was torn,Been left by November of leaves is torn
From hazel and thornThat lov'st to greet the early morn,
Again thou usherast in the day
My Mary from my soul was torn.Many a steed to the earth is borne,
Many a banner trampled and torn;To bear a weight that cannot be borne,
Sisyphus, even you aren't that strong,
Although your heart cannot be tornTo be another day re-worn,
Turn'd, but not torn;Could but by Sunday morn
Her gay new gown come, meads might dry to dun,
Trains shriek till ears were torn,THE night was loud with tumult; trees were torn
Sheer from their roots by the delirious wind;
In some waste dreamland wandered all forlornSo, from Philippi wander'd forth forlorn
Cilician Paul, with sounding scourges torn;Were their crimson colours borne;
And a stranger penon droop'd beneath,
But that was bow'd and torn:That rode when I was born
Against a ghastly skyline
Beneath a storm-cloud torn!- Ha! laugh'st thou, Lochiel, my vision to scorn?
Proud bird of the mountain, thy plume shall be torn!For us the Vine was fenced with thorn,
Five ways the precious branches torn;