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Ere pales in Heaven the morning star. 

 A bird, the loneliest of its kind. 

 Hears Dawn's faint footfall from afar 

 While all its mates are dumb and blind. 



Phoebe .' it calls and calls again, 

 And Ovid, could he have but heard, 

 Had hung a legendary pain 

 About the memory of the bird. 



J. R. Lowell 



qei 



