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               The Lor
This Horrid, Horrid, view portends
O misery!  Thy breath is wae;
How to lang for Merriment's merriment -
Thru Gethsemane's day !
Must we bide in Noisome's song
A destined- Ballad's gaze of doom,
The ghastliness of Being's fray -
From Penance's womb!
Waiting til that final breath
Where light and dark repine,
One other bitter fey of mirth
Unbodied- Immured and maligned!
A saddened, dismal, throe of stay
No tears can harbor grief,
How unkind is Life's decay-
But ah, the shades of Hope's beliefs.
And ever thus to by and by
From Moment's lonely birth,
All of Love's unending horror-
Shall culminant, inearth. 

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The Lor