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It's Gone
(22 April 1850 - 3 August 1889 / Năsăud)

It's Gone

It's gone, the yearning in my heart
You're longtime now forgotten;
The days are crawling, torn apart,
All pale, and cold, and rotten.

Yet love, be it one tender ray,
Life into them would pour.
But gone's my longing, gone away
And I can love no more.

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