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Paul Laurence Dunbar - Sonnet On An Old Book With Uncut LeavesPaul Laurence Dunbar - Sonnet On An Old Book With Uncut Leaves
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Emblem of blasted hope and lost desire,     No finger ever traced thy yellow page     Save Time`s. Thou hast not wrought to noble rage   The hearts thou wouldst have stirred. Not any fire   Save sad flames set to light a funeral pyre     Dost thou suggest. Nay,--impotent in age,     Unsought, thou holdst a corner of the stage   And ceasest even dumbly to aspire.   How different was the thought of him that writ.     What promised he to love of ease and wealth,   When men should read and kindle at his wit.     But here decay eats up the book by stealth,   While it, like some old maiden, solemnly,   Hugs its incongruous virginity!
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