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And when, at last, each youthful token 
Shall yield to wasting and decay, 
And thou, like arch or column broken, 
Shalt feel proud manhood’s strength give way 
Oil! then may Love, by time unshaken, 
Around its earliest prop still cling, 
(For when was mouldering arch forsaken 
By the fond wreatli it caused to spring ?) 
Still may one smile, as moonbeam tender, 
E’en to the last unwearied shine, 
Gilding thy manhood’s waning splendour, 
And oh, may that one smile be mine ! 
