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Away, away, ye notes of woe!

Be silent thou once soothing strain, Or I must flee from hence, for, oh!

I dare not trust those sounds again. To me they speak of brighter days,

But lull the chords, for now, alas!

I must not think, I may not gaze

On what I am, on what I was.


The voice that made those sounds more sweet

Is hushed, and all their charms are fled;

And now their softest notes repeat

A dirge, an anthem o'er the dead!

Yes, Thyrza! yes, they breathe of thee,

Beloved dust! since dust thou art;

And all that once was harmony

Is worse than discord to my heart!


"Tis silent all!-but on my ear

The well-remembered echoes thrill;

I hear a voice I would not hear,

A voice that now might well be still, Yet oft my doubting soul 'twill shake:

Ev’n slumber owns its gentle tone,

Till consciousness will vainly wake

To listen, though the dream he flown.


Sweet Thyrza! waking as in sleep,

Thou art but now a lovely dream;

A star that trembled o'er the deep,

Then turned from earth its tender beam.

But he, who through life's dreary way

Must pass, when heav'n is veiled in wrath,

Will long lament the vanished ray

That scattered gladness o'er his path.




One struggle more, and I am free

From pangs that rend my heart in twain;

One last long sigh to love and thee,

Then back to busy life again.

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