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This hour will pass—all passes, On this life's fleeting scene; But still the future glasses All that the past has been. This hour will pass, not perish, From the heart which now it stirs; For memory will cherish The sweetest which was hers.

When silence has been broken By a joy hope could not reach, And words of love have spoken Their first and softest speech. Forgotten!—never—never— They will soothe all after pain, And life's loveliest things will ever Bring back that hour again.