< Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf
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158

POEMS.

TO J. S.


i.

The wind, that beats the mountain, blows

⁠More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
That are cast in gentle mould.

ii.

And me this knowledge bolder made,

Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
Even with a verse your holy woe.

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