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That dies too into silence; then she feels Her utter loneliness:—he is quite gone! Long days have pass'd—that evening star hath left Its throne of beauty on the snow-crown'd hill, Yielding its place to winter's thousand lights;— Long days have pass'd:—again the twilight hour Smiles in the influence of that lovely star; The bright laburnum's golden wealth is heap'd, The spring's first treasure, and beneath its shade Rests alone:—what! still alone? A few short words will tell what change has wrought In their once love: it is a history That would suit half mankind. In its first spring,—