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There is no picture to recall Thy glad and open brow; No profiled outline on the wall Seems like thy shadow now; They have not even kept to wear One ringlet of thy golden hair.

When here we shelter'd last, appears But just like yesterday; It startles me to think that years Since then are pass'd away. The old oak tree that was our tent, No leaf seems changed, no bough seems rent.

A shower in June—a summer shower, Drove us beneath the shade;