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SOSPIRI VOLATE.
Yet I thought an angel,
Gone past all regret,
Would be willing that its gems
Should be roughly set ;
If perchance some might from them
Rays of brightness get.
Life is strangely duplex :
From the far-off past
Come the things of yesterday,
Shadows forward cast.
' Tis the old old story,
Earliest liveth last ;
Lovers die, but love doth live —
Darkness cometh fast.
