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Mignon’s Song.
9
Motionless, voiceless, pallid, yet immortal!
 While far below the cloudy seasons roll;
Meeting the day, and night’s slow-closing portal,
 He reads the ever-changing starry scroll.

Oh there, beloved! There if we might wander,
 Leaving this world of noisy hopes and fears,
Drink of the fount of youth that rises yonder,
 And all forget our shadow-laden years!

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