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UNSOLVED
'Tis the old unanswered question! Since the stars together sung,
In the glory of the morning, when the earth was fair and young,

Man hath asked it o'er and over, of the heavens so far and high,
And from out the mystic silence never voice hath made. reply!

Yet again to-night I ask it, though I know, O friend of mine,
There will come, to all my asking, never answering voice of thine.

Ah! how many times the grasses have grown green above thy grave,
And how many times above it have we heard the cold winds rave!

Thou hast solved the eternal problem that the ages hold in fee;
Thou dost know what we but dream of; where we marvel, thou dost see.

What is truth, and what is fable; what the prophets saw who trod
In their rapt, ecstatic visions up the holy mount of God!