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When in their sweetness first they came, And turned the heart they filled to flame;— Such soft, sad voice can give the lay All that its poet meant to say.

Oh! cast that shadow from thy brow, My dark-eyed love! be glad awhile: Has Leila's song no music now? Is there no charm in Leila's smile?

There are young roses in my hair, And morn and spring are on their bloom; Yet you have breathed their fragrant air, Like some cold vapour from the tomb.