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RETROSPECTION.

AS one softly sea-rocked, listening

To some old familiar tune,

Sits and views the rippling pathway

Silvered by the gentle moon, -

So I sit to-night, enraptured

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By the strains of History's lyre,

While the past, resplendent glowing

In imagination's fire,

Forms a long and glorious pathway

Over which my vision flies, -

Storied pathway, all along which

Many a deed immortal lies.

And as on the moonlit wave-way

Countless are the ripples bright,

And the eye with careless pleasure

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