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I marked the picture 'twas the changeful scene
Which life holds up to the observant eye:

Youth's spring, and summer, and its bowers of green,
The streaming sunlight of its morning sky,

And the dark clouds of death which linger by:
For oft, when life is fresh and hope is strong,
Shall early sorrow breathe the unbidden sigh,
While age to death moves peacefully along,
As on the singer's lip expires the finished song.

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