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THE MIRROR IN THE DESERTED HALL.
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THE MIRROR IN THE DESERTED HALL.
O, dim, forsaken mirror!
How many a stately throng
Hath o'er thee gleam'd, in vanish'd hours
Of the wine-cup and the song!
The song hath left no echo;
The bright wine hath been quaff'd;
And hush'd is every silvery voice
That lightly here hath laugh’d.
