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Before me rose an avenue
Of tall and sombrous pines;
Abroad their fan-like branches grew,
In long and sloping lines.
And, falling on my weary brain,
The dreams of youth came back again;
At once upon the flower.
Visions of childhood! Stay, O stay.
Ye were so sweet and wild!
And distant voices seemed to say, "It cannot be! They pass away! Other themes demand thy lay;
Thou art no more a child!