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A YEAR AGO.

Does it matter, save for pride?

Ah! a phantom stands beside,

And a dream - that comes not true! ...

You struck deep: the old scar burns.

Love is cruel as the grave,

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And its fang'd tooth stings. ... Love turns

Nor to listen nor to save! ...

Hark! the midnight drip of rain

Plashes from the hollow eaves;

And a sudden wind-puff heaves

The drawn curtain from the pane. ...

You are faint: your lips are pale,

And your hands - in mine - are cold;

And the wind, - 't is like the wail

Of dead bells for love's death toll'd. ...

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