Page:The Venetian Bracelet.pdf/284

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My first, my last, my only wish, Say will my charmed chords Wake to the morning light of fame, And breathe again my words?

Will the young maiden, when her tears Alone in moonlight shine— Tears for the absent and the loved— Murmur some song of mine?

Will the pale youth by his dim lamp, Himself a dying flame, From many an antique scroll beside, Choose that which bears my name?