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58

Which on Pieria blows,

Thou hast no share:

But in sad Hades' house,

Unknown, inglorious

'Mid the dim shades that wander there

Shalt thou flit forth and haunt the filmy air.

-2em

", my sweet mother, 't is in vain,

I cannot weave as once I wove,

So 'wildered is my heart and brain

With thinking of that youth I love."

-3em

the sweet apple which reddens upon the topmost bough,

A-top on the topmost twig,—which the pluckers forgot, somehow,—

Forgot it not, nay ! but got it not, for none could get it till now.

Like the wild hyacinth flower which on the hills is found,

Which the passing feet of the shepherds for ever tear and wound,

Until the purple blossom is trodden into the ground.