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When the red meteor rides the cloud, Telling the storm has burst its shroud: A passionate hue was on her cheek; Untranquil colours, such as break With crimson light the northern sky: Yet on her wan lip seem'd to lie A faint sweet smile, as if not yet It could its early charm forget. She sang, oh! well the heart might own The magic of so dear a tone.

my heart is as a grave Where the cypress watch is keeping Over hopes and over thoughts In their dark silence sleeping.