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O Star-eyed Science! hast thou wandered there, to waft us home the message of despair?
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Cease, every joy, to glimmer on my mind, But leave---oh leave the light of Hope behind.
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It may be strange—yet who would change Time's course to slower speeding,...
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'Tis the sunset of life gives me mystical lore, And coming events cast their shadows before.
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On Linden, when the sun was low, All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, And dark as winter was the flow Of Iser, rolling rapidly.
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