Leave April now, and autumn having,
Leave hope to fade, and darkness braving,
Take thine own soul
And journey on

The cresset fire of noon is waning,
Shadow the lonelier hills is staining;
Watch thou the West
Whence pale shall shine
Hesper divine!

Beauty, what is it but love's vision?
Earth's fame, the soul's supreme derision?
O ardent dust,
Turn to thy grave,
And quiet have!
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