It's There, Still There


Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev

It's there, still there, a past love's madness,

Dull pain and longing my heart fill.

Your image, hid amid the shadows

Of memory, lives in me still.

I think of it with endless yearning,

'Tis e'er with me though from me far,

Unreachable, unchanged, bright-burning

As in the sky of night a star...


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