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Rh

For light, such light as dwells above,— I have no faith in thee, false love! I've knelt at many a beauteous shrine, And call'd, but thought them not, divine. I've dived in many a beating heart, But search'd them only to depart; For selfish care, or heartless pride, Were all they ever had to hide. I 'm weary, weary:—one by one, The life charms of my youth are gone. I had a dream of stirring fame— It was a promise, and a name, Thrice glorious, shining from afar, But nearer earth had touch'd the star; With toil and trouble won from many, Yet trembling on the breath of any.