Within the churchThe solemn priests advance,And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows,Dyes a yet richer red the scarlet bannersAnd the scarlet robes of the young boys that bear them,And the thoughts of one of these are far away,With carmined lips pouting an invitation,Are with his love; his love, like a crimson poppyFlaunting amid prim lupins;And his ears hear nought of the words sung from
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