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When [[next word underlined]] thou and [[next word underlined]]I, my earliest friend,
	Where gay as summer weather,
We then the harmless hours could spend
	In converse sweet, together.

Ah! then, our youthful hearts beat Right!
	Untouch’d by withering sorrow.
Gay pass’d the day, serene the night,
	We thought not of to-morrow.

How is it now with thee, my friend –
	Is all unclouded [[grave accent on e in unclouded]] weather?
I sometimes think we yet might spend
	Some happy hours together.

Yet, no – for when thy cheering smile
	Had rais’d hope’s withering blossom,
Memory would come, with cruel wile,
	To tantalise my bosom.

I feel my heart was never made
	The storms of life to weather,
Yet soon will all its care be laid
	Low in the Grave together.