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 And next he walked in wonder through the town, Slowly by day and hurriedly by night, To watch the puppets dangling up and down With timorous and terrible delight.

Weary, he drew man's wisdom from a book, And pondered on the high words spoken of old, Pacing a lamplit room; but soon forsook The golden sentences that left him cold.

After, a maiden found him, and his head Lay on her breast, till he forgot his pain In gentle kisses on a midnight bed, And welcomed royal-winged Joy again.

When love became a loathing, as it must, He knew not where to turn; and he was wise, Being full of years, to mix himself with dust, To rest his rebel soul, and close his eyes.