Nightingales warbled without, Within was weeping for thee; Shadows of three dead men Walk’d in the walks with me, Shadows of three dead men, and thou wast one of the three. Nightingales sang in his woods, The Master was far away; Nightingales warbled and sang Of a passion that lasts but a day; Still in the house in his coffin the Prince of courtesy lay. Two dead men have I known In courtesy like to thee; Two dead men have I loved With a love that ever will be; Three dead men have I loved, and thou art last of the three.
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