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Show The Grave of Byron. 0 winds. Hint ripple the lonp Rrast, Grow still and UnRcrlnK ns you jiosh O winds, that kiss thu Jeweled scu; About this laurel tree. For him 'l pluck the lnurel crown; It rlptned In the western hreezo, Wherti Sausallto's hills look down Upon the froldcn seas. And SunllKht llnKcrod In Its leaves From dawn until the scarce-dimmed sky ClmnKCd to tho Unlit or stnis, and waves 8am? to It constantly 1 weae, and strive to weavo tone, A touch, that somehow when It lies Under his sacred dust nliinu neneuth the Ihitfllsh skies. Tho mm'hlno of the arch It knew. The cnlm thnt wrapt Its uiitlvo hill, Tho loo that wreathed Its KlMsy hue. May breathe nroumj It still. Ily ina D. Coolbrlth. |