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We are the songs that, silenced in their singing,
Lost in the choking of some youthful breast
Poignant and endless, wistful echoes ringing
Come floating to you down the halls of death.
We are the dreams the dreamers never ended,
Spun from the phantom gold of youth and star
Full of the joy that faith and hope had blended,
Come stealing to you from some world afar.
We are the hopes that never reached fruition
Death-cheated on the threshold of their life
Woven of youth's mad and deathless courage
Stricken as men fell in a mortal strife.
We are...