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Till days of anguish past alone, Till careless look, and alter'd tone, Relieve us from the rack, to know Our last of fate, our worst of woe. —And she, the guileless, pure, and bright, Whose nature was her morning's light; Who deem'd of love as it is given The sunniest element to heaven; Whose sweet belief in it was caught Only from what her own heart taught— Her woman's heart, that dreamy shrine, Of what itself made half divine— , when thy shadow came With thy first step that touch'd the earth, It was an omen how the same Doth sorrow haunt all mortal birth.