Fyodor Ivanovich Tyutchev (5 December 1803 – 27 July 1873 / Ovstug)
It's There, Still There
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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