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Rh And gone, fast journeying from that place of meeting,
 * The echoes of their welcome, one by one.

Though stranger crowds, my listeners since, are beating
 * Time to my music, their applauding tone

More grieves than glads me, while the tried and true, If yet on earth, are wandering far and few.

A longing long unfelt, a deep-drawn sighing
 * For the far Spirit-World o’erpowers me now;

My song’s faint voice sinks fainter, like the dying
 * Tones of the wind-harp swinging from the bough,

And my changed heart throbs warm, no more denying
 * Tears to my eyes or sadness to my brow;

The near afar off seems, the distant nigh, The now a dream, the past reality.