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Sonnet LVIII.

Topics: classic

Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,         The Parian Statue, bending o'er the Urn,         The dark robe floating, the dejection worn         On the dropt eye, and lip no smile illumes;      Not all this pomp of sorrow, that presumes         It pays Affection's debt, is due concern         To the FOR EVER ABSENT, tho' it mourn         Fashion's allotted time. If Time consumes,      While Life is ours, the precious vestal-flame         Memory shou'd hourly feed; - if, thro' each day,         She with whate'er we see, hear, think, or say,      Blend not the image of the vanish'd Frame,         O! can the alien Heart expect to prove,         In worlds of light and life, a reunited love!

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"Not the slow Hearse, where nod the sable plumes,..."

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