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Visit to a Graveyard

Where death stares us in the eye
Where everyone must come to lie

Where silence reigns supreme
Where tears flow in streams

Where helplessness is everywhere
Where winds howl loud and clear

Where both young and old must go
If the angel of death tells them so

Where flowers blossom on graves
Where epitaphs catch our gaze

Where the rich and poor are equal made
“With the poor crooked scythe and spade”

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