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The dead red barn and dark dead shed,
Betwixt and between we fare to die -
The broken windmill fills the fallow hill.
In the never-ending wend of wind
The salt-spray frays once-baited nets -
We thus discuss the rough of sea
Wed by tempests true - to the red dead barn,
The dead dark shed and fallow hill;
Betwixt and between - it's there we fare to die.
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