  No one was with me there— Happy I was—alone; Yet from the sunshine suddenly A joy was gone. A bird in an empty house Sad echoes makes to ring, Flitting from room to room On restless wing: Till from its shades he flies, And leaves forlorn and dim The narrow solitudes So strange to him. So, when with fickle heart I joyed in the passing day, A presence my mood estranged Went grieved away. |
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