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To — [The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see]
by [?]


The bowers whereat, in dreams, I see
The wantonest singing birds
Are lips – and all thy melody
Of lip-begotten words –


Thine eyes, in Heaven of heart enshrin’d
Then desolately fall,
O! God! on my funereal mind
Like starlight on a pall –


Thy heart – thy heart! – I wake and sigh,
And sleep to dream till day
Of truth that gold can never buy –
Of the trifles that it may.