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All de world am sad and dreary, They sing no more by the glimmer of Eb'rywhere I roam.
10
Oh, darkies, how my heart grows
the moon,
15
On the bench by the old cabin door. The day goes by like a shadow o'er the
Thy hearth-stones as a bulwark; make thee great
In white and bloodless state; And happly, as the years increase--
But these are charms already widely Still working through its humbler