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When I have
fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has
gleaned my teeming brain, Before high-piled books, in
charact'ry, Hold like rich garners the full-ripened
grain; When I behold upon the night's starred face
Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that
I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the
magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creature
of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more,
Never have relish in the faery power Of unreflecting
love! -then on the shore Of the wide world I stand
alone, and think, Till Love and Fame to nothingness
do sink.
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