  I sometimes hear among the snow-clad trees The lone wind chanting solemn symphonies. I sometimes smell, while yet the woods are bare, The breath of unborn blossoms in the air. I am at times aware of gentle sighs There where the creek, ice-fettered, dreaming lies. I sometimes witness when the air is still Unearthly splendors on the white-robed hill. I sometimes read in flashing stars at night Mysterious promises of future light. But what can make a spirit's anguish less, Or ease a heart's eternal loneliness? |
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