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69

THE METEOR.

Ye, who look with wondering eye,
Tell me what in me ye find,
As I shoot across the sky,
But an emblem of your kind!
Darting from my hidden source,
I behold no resting place;
But must ever urge my course
Onward, till I end my race!
While I keep my native height,
I appear to all below
Radiant with celestial light,
That is brightening as I go.
When I lose my hold on heaven,
Down to shadowy earth I tend,
From my pure companions driven;
And in darkness I must end!