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.