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A poem by Thomas Hardy |
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The Dead Man Walking |
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Title: The Dead Man Walking Author: Thomas Hardy [More Titles by Hardy] They hail me as one living, I am but a shape that stands here, Not at a minute's warning, There was no tragic transit, - A Troubadour-youth I rambled But when I practised eyeing When passed my friend, my kinsfolk And when my Love's heart kindled And if when I died fully Yet is it that, though whiling [The end] GO TO TOP OF SCREEN |