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Not lone, when mournfully some strain awaking Of days long past, From thy soft eyes the sudden tears are breaking, Silent and fast:

Not lone, when upwards, in fond visions turning Thy dreamy glance, Thou seek'st my home, where solemn stars are burning, O'er night's expanse.

My home is near thee, lov'd one! and around thee, Where'er thou art; Tho' still mortality's thick cloud hath bound thee, Doubt not thy heart!

Hear its low voice, nor deem thyself forsaken— Let faith be given To the still tones which oft our being waken— They are of heaven!