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(53)
THE MOURNER S SOXG.
And cold Despair, in triumph wild,
Expunged the promise she beguiled !
Joy : once I knew — the season brief,
But so intense the measure —
Had it been less, I'd less in grief
Bewail the absent treasure.
Wise man reproves the simple boy,
But envies still his store of joy.
And Love : the gentle flame, decayed,
Has left me dark and lone ;
Betraying once, and now betrayed,
"Tis meet I'm now undone :
But how sad it is to prove
No one that loves — and none to love !
Then I would lay me down in peace
Upon a drearoless pillow,
For all the pangs of sorrow cease
Beneath the friendly willow —
There wiU my stricken heart remove
From fear, and hope, and joy, and love I

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