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44 Like some frail bark which cannot bear The impulse of an altered wind, Though prosperous: and my heart grew full 'Mid its new joy of a new care: For his cheek became, not pale, but fair, As rose-o'ershadowed lilies are; And soon his deep and sunny hair, In this alone less beautiful, Like grass in tombs grew wild and rare. The blood in his translucent veins Beat, not like animal life, but love Seemed now its sullen springs to move, When life had failed, and all its pains: And sudden sleep would seize him oft Like death, so calm, but that a tear, His pointed eye-lashes between, Would gather in the light serene Of smiles, whose lustre bright and soft Beneath lay undulating there. His breath was like inconstant flame, As eagerly it went and came; And I hung o'er him in his sleep,