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With ebon feet and silver wing, The quiet waters' glittering. And when sometimes, as eve closed in, I waked my lonely mandolin, The gentle birds came gliding near, As if they loved that song to hear.

'Tis past, 'tis past, my happiness Was all too pure and passionless! I waked from calm and pleasant dreams To watch the morning's earliest gleams, Wandering with light feet 'mid the dew, Till my cheek caught its rosy hue; And when uprose the bright-eyed moon, I sorrowed, day was done so soon;