Chapter XIII
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In dearest dust that ever nourished
The violets that o’er it flourished,
He lies, your lover and your friend!
Thy softest beams, sweet sun, will kiss him;
Sweet, silent valleys, ye will miss him,
Your roses, weeping, o’er him bend.
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Joel Chandler Harris' life of Henry W. Grady including his writings and speechesChapter XIII
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