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FAUST
And yearnings fill my soul, unwonted long,
To yonder still, sad, spirit-world to go;
Now, like Ælian harp, my faltering song
Rises and falls in fitful cadence low;
A shudder thrills me, as old memories throng,
The strong heart melts, tears fast on tear-drops flow,
What still is mine seems far, far off to be,
And what has vanished lives anew for me.
