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Oft in the stilly night,
Ere slumber’s chain has bound me,
Fond memory brings the light
Of other days around me;
The smiles, the tears,
Of boyhood’s years,
The words of love then spoken;
The eyes that shone
Now dimmed and gone,
The cheerful hearts now broken.
I feel like one
Who treads alone,
Some banquet hall deserted,
Whose lights are fled
Whose garlands dead
And all but be departed
Thomas Moore Oft In the Stilly Night
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