From the wreck of the past, which hath perished,
Thus much I at least may recall,
It hath taught me that what I most cherished
Deserved to be dearest of all:
In the Desert a fountain is springing,
In the wide waste there still is a tree,
And a bird in the solitude singing,
Which speaks to my spirit of Thee.

— George Gordon Byron
https://palimpseste.vercel.app/#text/66d1bc2e-01c2-456b-a48f-d4c4ccbc73ce
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