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O! nothing earthly save the ray (Thrown back from flowers) of Beauty's eye, As in those gardens where the day Springs from the gems of Circassy – O! nothing earthly save the thrill Of melody in woodland rill – Or (music of the passion-hearted) Joy's voice so peacefully departed That like the murmur in the shell, Its echo dwelleth and will dwell – Oh, nothing of the dross of ours – Yet all the beauty – all the flowers That list our Love, and deck our bowers – Adorn yon world afar, afar – The wandering star.