Page:The Vow of the Peacock.pdf/97

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Why should a thought, if me to grieve, Be left upon thy mind?

I would not have thy memory dwell Upon one thought of pain; And sad it must be the farewell Of one who loved in vain.

Farewell! thy course is in the sun, First of the young and brave; For me,—my race is nearly run, And its goal is the grave.

There was a sadness in the words, There was a memory on the chords,