| Andrew Macphail, comp. The Book of Sorrow. 1916. | | | X. The Pity of It Is the Grave deep, Dear? | | By Richard Realf (18321878) |
| | | IS the grave deep, dear? Deeper still is Love. | |
| They cannot hide thee from thy Fathers heart. | |
| Thou liest below, and I stand here above, | |
| Yet we are not apart
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| Mine eyes ache for thee; Gods heaven is so high | 5 |
| We cannot see its singers; when thou dost | |
| With thy larks voice make palpitant all the sky, | |
| I moan and pain the most. | | | | |
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