tain to utter forth in verse
Some in, my soul throbs audibly
Along my pulses, yearning to be free
And somether, fuller, higher, rehearse
to true, and the universe,
In consummation of right harmony:
But, like a orted tree,
e are blo for ever by the curse
ure. Ohe world is weak !
to all,
And conceive o speak.
ait, soul, until ts fall,
And trains, and seek
Fit peroration let or thrall.