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Normale Version: TO A. H. H.
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TO A. H. H.

When youth is passing from my hoary head,
And life's decline steals brightness from thine eye-
But that it cannot soon, nor quench the red
Upon thy cheek that hath so rich a dye —
Then of what crowns of fame may thou and I
Avow ourselves the gainers ? with what balm
Of Christian hope, devotionally calm,
Shall I be then anointed ? Will this sigh.
Born of distemper'd feeling, still come forth
As thus, unjoyous ? or be left to die
Before the rapid and unpausing birth
Of joyous thoughts succeeding momently ?
What would not such recoil of bliss be worth,
Replacing in our age this early loss of joy ? '