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The tears shall cease, though still they flow, Why dost thou weep in ceaseless woe? Allow me then, with voice so low, To sing thee sorrow’s quiet hymn, A farewell steeped in shadows dim. The guilt thou dost conceal within, Shall rise anon, its specter grim. Not now, but soon—so close, so nigh— Shall come the hour for me to fly, To bid this world a last goodbye.