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[Page 106]

extract (Professional Beauty)

Beauty is but a vain & doubtful good
A Shining gloss that fadeth suddenly
A flower that dieth when first gives to bud
A brittle glass that's broken presently
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, faded, broken, dead within an hour

Since thou cans't with more than one
Thou'rt worthy to be loved by none

The first sound in the song of love
Scarce more than silence is and yet a sound
Hands of invisible spirits touch the strings
Of that mysterious instrument the soul
And play the prelude of our fate

Two separate worlds – the one that small
Beloved & consecrated spot
Where Quita was; the other all
The dull wide waste where she was not

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