| Alone |
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| Famine, pestilence, flood |
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| Where is fault, then, or sin |
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| No! the seeming is thine |
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| But redemption to come! |
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| Timid soul! thou art fleeing |
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| To think! to think and never rest from thinking! |
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| Ay, we are dreamed; and, if ever the Dreamer |
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| But this longing to live! |
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| Dust to dust? No, that doom |
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