We shape our deeds and then are shapen by them,
To some frail heart a cruel gift we bring,
Turn from our acts away, and think to fly them:
Ah, theirs the stronger wing!

They come upon our peace with sound of weeping,
They find us though we hide in clefts and caves.
They are with us waking, they are with us sleeping,
And rend us in our graves.
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