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She who renounced the world in youth, and made Her heart an altar but for heavenly hopes— Thrice blessed in such sacrifice. Alas! The weakness, yet the strength of earthly ties! Who hath not in the weariness of life Wish'd for the wings of morning or the dove, To bear them heavenward, and have wish'd in vain? For wishes are effectual but by will, And that too much is impotent and void In frail humanity; and time steals by Sinful and wavering, and unredeem'd.   Bent by a casement, whence her eye could dwell Or on the countenance of that sweet saint, Or the fair valley, where the river wound Like to a fairy thing, now light, now shade, Which the eye watches in its wandering,