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Oh! long ere one shadow shall darken that brow, Wilt thou weep like a mourner o'er all thou lovest now; When thy hopes, like spent arrows, fall short of their mark; Or, like meteors at midnight, make darkness more dark; When thy feelings lie fettered like waters in frost, Or, scattered too freely, are wasted and lost: For aye cometh sorrow, when youth has pass'd by— What saith the Arabian? Its memory's a sigh.