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Weep not for those whom the veil of the tomb, In life's early morning, hath hid from our eyes, Ere sin threw a veil o'er the spirit's young bloom, Or earth had profan'd what was born for the skies. .

a mountain-brook my guide, Thro' a wild Spanish glen, And wandered, on its grassy side, Far from the homes of men.

It lured me with a singing tone, And many a sunny glance, To a green spot of beauty lone, A haunt for old romance.