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In the grave they laid him, love whom men had slain,
Thinking
that never he would wake again.
Laid in the earth like grain that sleeps unseen:
Love is come again, like wheat that
springeth green,
When our hearts are wintry, grieving, or in pain,
Thy touch can call
us back to life again;
Fields of our hearts that dead and bare have been:
Love is come again, like wheat that springeth
green.
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