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“On quivering wing a lonely bat flew swift and noiseless by.
Passed and repassed, and was ever seen where’er the moonlight fell;
And in the downcast hearts it raised
The question never answered yet—
Deep as sorrow—old as pain—
‘Oh, whither go ye, what paths shall ye tread
When the verdant paths of the earth ye leave?
Can ye point the spirit’s path to another?’—No,
’T were easier to guide the bat which fluttereth by just now.
“On my shoulder, then, my darling leaned her head, her soft, sweet hair,
And softly she did whisper to him whom she thus loved—
Ne’er dream my soul will flee from thee
To distant spheres when I am dead;
My homeless spirit will find its way
To thee, oh, love! and dwell in thee.’
What pain! My heart was nigh to break.
Would she then die? Was this night then her last?
Was this my parting kiss upon my darling’s face?
“Now many years have passed since then—I sit again and oft
In that old favorite place of mine, when nights are dark and still;
But I shrink from the moon—she knows how oft
On the veranda I have kissed my love.
Her shimmering light she used to blend
With the tears I shed on my darling’s hair.
Oh, the woe of memory! It is my curse.
My soul is the home of hers! What doom can he await
Who has bound to his a soul so pure and fair!”
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