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By Graves, Alfred Perceval
"More pure than yonder virgin snow
From God comes gently down,
I left my happy country home,"
She sighed, "to seek the town,
More foul than yonder drift shall turn,
Before the sun is high,
Downtrodden and defiled of men,
More foul," she wept, "am I."
Artist: Graves, Alfred Perceval
Year: 1800