has a voice of gladness, and a smile And eloquence of beauty, and she glides Into his darker musings, with a mild And healing sympathy, that steals away Their sharpness, ere he is aware. When thoughts Of the last bitter hour come like a blight Over thy spirit, and sad images Of the stern agony, and shroud, and pall, And breathless darkness, and the *narrow house, *coffin Make thee to shudder and grow sick at heart;-- Go forth, under the open sky, and list(en) To Nature's teachings, while…
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