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Farewell! and when the charm of change Has sunk, as all must sink, in shade; When joy, a wearied bird, begins The wing to droop, the plume to fade;

When thou thyself, at length, hast felt What thou hast made another feel— The hope that sickens to despair, The wound that time may sear, not heal;

When thou shalt pine for some fond heart To beat in answering thine again;— Then, false one, think once more on me, And sigh to think it is in vain.