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To her, love, sorrow, want, may turn
But vain and useless their appealing;
Why should she human sorrow learn
Who hath no smile of healing?

O beautiful, proud masterpiece
On whom all eyes in joy are gazing'!
O queenly form! O angel face,
Whose symmetry all lips are praising!

Are there not some who pass thee by
In whose frail form thy stone is molded,
Whose prayer is like a smothered cry
Forever in their hearts close folded?

To watch the sun of day decline
Like thee, with orbs of stony blindness,
With features as unmoved as thine,
To taste the bitter of unkindness?

To drink no more with trembling lips
The bitter, brimming cup of anguish
'Midst the dark shades of life's eclipse
No more in fear and dread to languish?

Unmarred by age or care to keep
Youth's molded form, Youth's chiseled beauty,
Above no cruel bonds to weep
That hold them slave to love or duty?

To answer love with stony gaze,
And hate with calm and mute defiance
Unmoved, unchanged by slight or praise
Strong in a nerveless self-reliance?

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