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I the Net of Memory, Man's torment and delight, Over the level Sands of Youth That lay serenely bright, Their tranquil gold at times submerged In the Spring Tides of Love's Delight.

The Net brought up, in silver gleams, Forgotten truth and fancies fair: Like opal shells, small happy facts Within the Net entangled were With the red coral of his lips, The waving seaweed of his hair.

We were so young; he was so fair. 13