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Tho' the castle echoes catch no tone Of human step or word, Tho' the fires be quenched and the feasting done, Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

How can that flood of gladness Rush thro' thy fiery lay, From the haunted place of sadness, From the bosom of decay? While dirge-notes in the breeze's moan, Thro' the ivy garlands heard, Come blent with thy rejoicing tone, Oh! lonely, lonely bird!

There's many a heart, wild singer, Like thy forsaken tower, Where joy no more may linger, Where love hath left his bower: