Page:Poems E. L. F.djvu/23

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the hermit

Be doomed for her benighted heart,
Her brightest hopes for ever part,
The fairest visions of her mind
Pass like the breathings of the wind?
The thought was horror—yet she knew
It was reality—too true!
Her fate was fixed by one who never
The thought and action deigned to sever,
And bent her soul in silent grief,
To misery without relief.

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