Black field

There is a black field

They say it is cleaned

And all is quite free’d

The members are great;

There’s no way for hate,

No hate for much wait.

Neither is there farce

Nor the dreaded cars,

For left safe is grass.

Morrow, Death be said,

Morrow, said She’s check’d,

Sorrow, I weep lest

The world is in ‘shed.

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