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Merlin

Merlin by Geoffrey Hill (b.1932) ' I will consider the outnumbering dead: For they are the husks of what was rich seed. Now, should they come together to be fed, They would outstrip the locusts' covering tide. Arthur, Elaine, Mordred; they are all gone Among the raftered galleries of bone. By the long barrows of Logres they are made one, And over their city stands the pinnacled corn.'

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