{"character_count": 528, "word_count": 100, "ccnet_language_score": [0.9532999992370605], "ccnet_perplexity": [1255.800048828125], "fasttext_language": ["en"]}
Perhaps the wing of death Is there, Tanning some soul which have loved Into the cold and desert air, X sad thing from it's home removed Perhaps they weep for one that's dead, And think of me the absent, too, While have not tear-drop shed, As they, the sad forsaken do And so, perhaps, when return, Stead of the loved one's voice and eye, I may but find the marble urn, Deaths sad and freezing mockery : And so one other wound will be, Upon the scared and shattered heart, Which sorrow loves so well, it doth not

 thence depart.