In Dreams, Unhappy, I Behold You Stand by Robert Louis Stevenson

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In dreams, unhappy, I behold you stand / As heretofore: / The unremembered tokens in your hand / Avail no more.

No more the morning glow, no more the grace, / Enshrines, endears.

Cold beats the light of time upon your face / And shows your tears.

He came and went. Perchance you wept a while / And then forgot.

Ah, me! but he that left you with a smile / Forgets you not.

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