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192

Where are thy blushes, where thy tears? Thy cheek has but one rose: No eloquence of hopes and fears Disturbs its bright repose.

Thy large dark eyes grow not more dark With tears that swell unshed: Alas! thy heart is as the ark That floated o'er the dead.

Hope, feeling, fancy, fear, and love Are in one ruin hurl'd; Fate's dreary waters roll above Thy young and other world.