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LXXVI


Ye have heard how Marsyas,
  1
In the folly of his pride,
Boasted of a matchless skill,—
When the great god's back was turned;

How his fond imagining
  5
Fell to ashes cold and grey,
When the flawless player came
In serenity and light.

So it was with those I loved
  9
In the years ere I loved thee.
Many a saying sounds like truth,
Until Truth itself is heard.

Many a beauty only lives
  13
Until Beauty passes by,
And the mortal is forgot
In the shadow of the god.







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