The pity of it, Volum 3

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Side 212 - Oft have I gazed, when sunset clouds, receding, Waved like rich banners of a host gone by, To catch the gleam of some white pinion speeding Along the confines of the glowing sky, — " And oft, when midnight stars in distant dullness Were calmly burning, listened late and long, But nature's pulse beat on in solemn stillness, Bearing no echo of the seraph's song.

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