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To A Photograph

O tender shade!
Lone captive of enamoured Light,
That from an angel visage bright
A glance betrayed.


Dost thou not sigh
To wander from thy prison-place?
To seek again the vanished face,
Or else, to die?


A shade like thee,
Dim Eidolon—a dream disproved—
A memory of light removed,
Behold in me!

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