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JOAN OF ARC
Her spirit is to France a living spring
From which to draw deep draughts of life. Today,—
As when a peasant girl she led the way
Victorious to Rheims and crowned the King,—
High and heroic thoughts about her cling,
And sacrificial faiths as pure as they,
Moving the land she loved, with gentle sway,
To be, for love of her, a better thing!
Was she unhappy? No: her radiant youth
Burned, like a meteor, on to swift eclipse;
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