WHEN
I have fears that I may cease to be
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Before
my pen has glean'd my teeming brain,
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Before
high pil`d books, in charact'ry,
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Hold
like rich garners the full-ripen'd grain;
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When
I behold, upon the night's starr'd face,
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5
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Huge
cloudy symbols of a high romance,
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And
feel that I may never live to trace
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Their
shadows, with the magic hand of chance;
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And when
I feel, fair creature of an hour!
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That
I shall never look upon thee more,
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10
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Never
have relish in the faery power
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Of
unreflecting love;—then on the shore
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Of
the wide world I stand alone, and think,
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Till
Love and Fame to nothingness do sink.
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