| IN these rapid, restless shadows,
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| Once I walked at eventide,
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| When a gentle, silent maiden,
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| Walked in beauty at my side
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| She alone there walked beside me
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| All in beauty, like a bride.
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| Pallidly the moon was shining
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| On the dewy meadows nigh;
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| On the silvery, silent rivers,
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| on the mountains far and high
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| On the ocean’s star-lit waters,
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| Where the winds a-weary die Slowly,
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| silently we wandered
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| From the open cottage door,
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| Underneath the elm’s long branches
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| To the pavement bending o’er;
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| Underneath the mossy willow
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| And the dying sycamore.
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| With the myriad stars in beauty
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| All bedight, the heavens were seen,
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| Radiant hopes were bright around me,
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| Like the light of stars serene;
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| Like the mellow midnight splendor of the Night’s Trradiate queen.
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| Audibly the elm-leaves whispered Peaceful, pleasant melodies,
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| Like the distant murmured music of unquiet, lovely seas:
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| While the winds were hushed in stumber In the fragrant flowers and
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| trees. |
| Wondrous and unwonted beauty Still adorning all did seem,
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| While I told my love in fables 'Neath the willows by the stream,
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| Would the heart have kept unspoken Love that was its rarest dream!
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| Instantly away we wandered In the shadowy twilight tide, She,
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| the silent, scornful maiden, Walking calmly at my side,
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| With a step serene and stately, All in beauty, all in pride.
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| Swift and keen there came unto me Ritter memories of the past On me,
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| like the rain in Autumn On the dead leaves,
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| cold and fast Underneath the elms we parte By the lowly cottage door;
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| One brief word alone was uttered Never on our lips before;
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| And away I walked forlornly, Broken-hearted evermore. |
| Slowly,
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| silently I loitered, Homeward, in the night, alone;
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| Sudden anguish bound my spirit,
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| That my youth had never known Wild unrest,
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| like that which cometh When the Night’s tmst dream hath flown. |
| Now,
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| to me the elm-leaves whisper Mad, discordant melodies,
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| And keen melodies like shadows ttaunt the moaning willow
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| trees, And the sycamores with laughter Mock me in the nightly breeze.
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| Sad and pale the Autumn moonlight Through the sighing foliage
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| streams; |
| And each morning, midnight shadow,
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| Shadow of my sorrow seems; |
| Strive, heart,
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| forget thine idol! |
| And, o soul, forget thy dreams! |