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Be wise, my sorrow, quit thy vain unrest. Now falls the twilight of thine eager plea; The dim haze wraps the city vaporouslyIn peace or leaves long weariness unblest.Now doth the soulless rabble, lust-possest, Beneath the unsparing goad of Pleasure flee To reap remorse in foul satiety.Come, O my sorrow, on serener quest.

Behold the lost years of thy life that leanFrom heaven's high balcony in garments mean; Behold Regret from the deep waters rise.While the dim sun drifts downward to his bed,Hearken how eastward with unechoing tread The soft Night draws her long shroud down the skies.

© Thorley Wilfred Charles