LXIV.

Her handmaids tended, but she heeded not;

Her Father watched, she turned her eyes away;

She recognised no being, and no spot,

However dear or cherished in their day;

They changed from room to room—but all forgot—

Gentle, but without memory she lay;

At length those eyes, which they would fain be weaning

Back to old thoughts, waxed full of fearful meaning.

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