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THE STORY OF A SHAWL. [1879.]
My child, is it so strange, indeed,
This tale of the Plague in the East, you read?—

This tale of how a soldier found
A gleaming shawl of silk, close-wound,

(And stained, perhaps, with two-fold red)
About a dead man's careless head?

He took the treasure on his breast
To one he loved. We know the rest.

If Russia shudders near and far,
From peasant's hut to throne of Czar:

If Germany bids an armed guard
By sun and moon keep watch and ward

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