Never palpable the atrophy sank
silently striking the atmosphere dank,
As derived of a splendid angel's faulter
did the disaffection prospect blunder.
Tempestuous calamity made cloistered
and restless once reigning happy hoisted,
now barren as aimless, amorphous sky
whose temerity wayward throws cold cries.
And though now by no elated reason
the abyss that yields to no true season
still sighs for its devoid, hollow garden
that once had every atom regarded.
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