lronitulstahp
Posts: 5392
Joined: 10/17/2007 Status: offline
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The clouds that gather round the setting sun Do take a sober colouring from an eye That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality; Another race hath been, and other palms are won. Thanks to the human heart by which we live, Thanks to its tenderness, its joys, and fears, To me the meanest flower that blows can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears. from: Ode on Intimations of Immortality . . . Wordsworth h, my deepest prayers go with you and the family, along with love and hope n
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