The Bellman by Muriel Stuart

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BRING out your dead before you reap
From lips beloved infection dread;
Above such brows ye dare not weep!
Bring out your dead

Into the street from breast or bed,
Lest ye too sicken into sleep
That recks not of the Bellman’s tread.

Thrice foolish heart! Why do you heap
Corpse upon corpse–conspire to spread
Corruption on all else you keep?
Bring out your dead!

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