There were a pair of eyes, reclined,
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That with a fever deep had searched
For youth long ago declined,
And in them hope was torched.
Deep was the brow, longer the kiss,
One which had grieved, the other that lit,
No feeling was just comparing to this,
When a smile graced from the pit
And found in it that long embrace,
And laid rest on the beating breast,
Which forever shall remember its grace,
And which had severed the rest.
No words that were or will be spoken,
Unless uttered that passion to stir,
Are and will forever be a token,
For the love I have devoted to her.