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The one whose haunted beauty wears The sign of human thought or tear.

Why hold the violet and rose A place within the heart, denied To fairer foreign flowers, to those To earlier memories allied?

Like those frail leaves, each restless thought Fluctuates in my weary mind; Uncertain tree! my fate was wrought In the same loom where thine was twined.

And thus from other trees around Did I still watch the aspen-tree, Because in its unrest I found Somewhat of sympathy with me.