XI

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XI

And long her eyes as through a haze

After the wedded couple strain;

Alas! the friend of childish days

Away, Tattiana, hath been ta’en.

Thy dove, thy darling little pet

On whom a sister’s heart was set

Afar is borne by cruel fate,

For evermore is separate.

She wanders aimless as a sprite,

Into the tangled garden goes

But nowhere can she find repose,

Nor even tears afford respite,

Of consolation all bereft⁠—

Well nigh her heart in twain was cleft.