| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - the gentle night wind though the forest leaves softly is creeping while stars up above with then glitter keep guard for thearmy issleeping there is only the sound of the lone sen try's iread ' as he tramps from the rock to the fountain a he thinks of the two in thejow trim . die bed far away in the cot on the mountain his musket fallsslack his face dark and grim mows riitle with memories tender as
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