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Man by the battle's hour immortalized May fall, yet leave his name to living song; But of forsaken woman's countless tears, What recks the after-world? the poet's voice Tells naught of all the slow, sad, weary days And long, long nights, through which the lonely soul Poured itself forth, consumed itself away, In passionate adjurings, vain desires, And ceaseless weepings for the early lost, The loved and vanished!