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Or who could bear the sad decay 
Of friendship — withering day by day ? 
The rained hopes? the blighted dreams? 
The darkening of affection’s beams, 
Which hourly on life’s lengthened path, 
Are strewed like leaves by Winter’s wrath, 
Flung reckless on some cheerless way 
Which once was bright, and fair, and gay ? 
Or when that pang, more keen than all, 
On the fond breast is doomed to fall, 
Bidding its inmost thrillings wake 
To suffering, for another's sake; 
When sorrow, with its mildew touch, 
Has changed a face we cherished much; 
And bowed beneath care’s angiy storm, 
We see some prized and noble form; 
Ah, then, we raise our thoughts above, 
And ask in dread, — Can God be love ? 
