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Her spirit's hope—her bosom's love— Oh! could they mount and fly! She never sees a wandering dove, But for its wings to sigh. Let her depart!

She never hears a soft wind bear Low music on its way, But deems it sent from heavenly air, For her who cannot stay. Let her depart!

Wrapt in a cloud of glorious dreams, She breathes and moves alone, Pining for those bright bowers and streams Where her beloved is gone. Let her depart