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Poem	There was a sound of music low— An undertone of laughter; The song was done, and can't you guess The words that followed after? Like autumn leaves sometimes they fall— The words that burn and falter; And is it true they too must fade Upon Love's sacred alter? From memory each one of us Can cull some sweetest treasure; Yet golden days, like golden leaves, Give pain as well as pleasure. There was a sound of music low— An undertone of laughter: The sun was gone—yet heaven knew The stars that followed after.
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