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A sweet bird by the casement sat and sang A song so glad, that like a laugh it rang, While its wings shook the jessamine, till the bloom Floated like incense round that joyous room. —They found the maiden: still her face was bow'd, As with some shame that might not be avow'd: They raised the long hair which her face conceal'd,— And she is dead,—her secret unreveal'd.