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Oh the joy, the love, the glee,
Sheltered once by that roof-tree!
Song and dance and serenade,
Joyous jest by maskers played;
Passionate whispers on the stairs,
Hopes unspoken, voiceless prayers;
Greetings that repressed love's theme,
Partings that renewed its dream;
All the blisses, all the woes,
Youth's brief hour of spring-time knows,--
All have died into the past.
Perish too the house at last!

Vagrant children come and go 'Neath the windows, murmuring low;
Peering with impatient eye
For a ghostly mystery.
Some a fabled secret tell,
Others touch the soundless bell,
Then with hurrying step retreat
From the echo of their feet.
Or perchance there wander near
Guests who once held revel here:
Some live o'er again the days

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