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Like flowers before her, and her halls were throng'd With lovers, and of life she took no thought, Save for its pleasures; but as years pass'd on She felt her insecurity, and cursed Her own fair face for fading. Suddenly She grew more lovely, as if age to her Were but a second youth; again her halls Were fill'd with worshippers, and day and night Consumed in revels; when, as suddenly As summer had revisited her face, She pass'd away. On his deathbed a monk Told a wild legend, how one autumn eve He leant in his confessional alone, And a most radiant lady knelt and wept Over the one unpardonable sin. How for the sake of lasting loveliness