Yes, thou art gone! and round me too the night In ever-nearing circle weaves her shade. I see her veil draw soft across the day, I feel her slowly chilling breath invade The cheek grown thin, the brown hair sprent with grey; I feel her finger light Laid pausefully upon lifes headlong train; The foot less prompt to meet the morning dew, The heart less bounding at emotion new, And hope, once crushd, less quick to spring again.

Matthew Arnold
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