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O THAT THE EAGLE'S WING WERE MINE!
O that the eagle's wing were mine!
I'd soar above the dreary earth;
I'd spread my wings, and rise to join
The immortal fountain of my birth.

For what is joy? how soon it fades,—
The childish vision of an hour!
Though warm and brilliant are its shades,
'Tis but a frail and fading flower.

And what is hope? it is a light
Which leads us on deluding ever,
Till lost amid the shades of night
We sink, and then it flies forever!

And what is love? it is a dream,
A brilliant fable framed by youth;
A bubble dancing on life's stream,
And sinking 'neath the eye of truth.

And what are honor, glory, fame,
But Death's dark watchwords to the grave?
The victim dies, and lo! his name
Is lost in life's swift rolling wave.