O lurcher-loving collier, black as night
Follow your love across the smokeless hill;
Your lamp is out, and all the cages still;
Course for her heart and do not miss
For Sunday soon is past and, Kate, go not so fast
For Monday comes when none may kiss:
Be marble to his soot, and to his black be white
Follow your love across the smokeless hill;
Your lamp is out, and all the cages still;
Course for her heart and do not miss
For Sunday soon is past and, Kate, go not so fast
For Monday comes when none may kiss:
Be marble to his soot, and to his black be white
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