There are some,
from birth are marked by melancholy,
The silent shades of sorrow,
are their congenial haunts.
The glades of grief are the only places,
their leaf can flourish.
Others, who through some crushing misfortune,
Being brought so low,
never holding up their heads again,
but go, mourning all the way to their silent graves.
Some, again,
disappointed in their early youth,
Either...
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