O sad, sad face and saddest eyes that ever
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Whence came the grief that makes of all thy beauty
In this bright portrait where the painter fixed them
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The eyes that gladdened and the lips that loved me,
The cloud of hair that settles on one shoulder
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I almost hear thy Mitylenean love-song
When the still air was odorous with blossoms
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Thy first wild girl's-love trembled into being,
Ah, where is all that wonder? What God's malice
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And set the seal of patient woe upon thee,