No more we sing it, you and I.
The youth that fanged its lines with fire, -
That youth has found in Time a tomb;
And slow the lagging years expire
Like embers glowing in the gloom:
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And now that life is nearly spent,
And we are sitting here alone,
Its music seems a dumb lament,
And tears are trembling in its tone.
- Acta Columbiana.