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A little black thing among the snow: Crying weep, weep in notes of woe! "Where are thy father and mother? say?" "They are both gone up to the church to pray. "Because I was happy upon the heath, And smiled among the winters snow: They clothed me in the clothes of death, And taught me to sing the notes of woe. "And because I am happy and dance and sing, They think they have done me no injury: And are gone to praise God and his Priest and King, Who make up a heaven of our misery." |