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268 TOMB OF JOSEPHINE.
Still o er the joys of earlier years,
With tender spirit hung, And mourned, when sorrow o er his path
A blighting shadow flung ;
Gave thanks, if victory s meteor-wreath His care-worn temples bound,
And in the blessings of the poor, Her only solace found.
And so she died, and here she sleeps,
This village-fane below ; Sweet is the memory of a life That caused no tear to flow.
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