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Published: 2005-04-17 22:12:32 +0000 UTC; Views: 75; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 0
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[ that which is great, is singular, as lonely as a mountain peakbiding its time, bitter, stuck, amidst the strong biting wind
where water is scarce, and life, is almost non-existant
on mountain high, the earth is strong, sharp, and rough
whither does it not long to be the rolling fertile plains
where the sun gives healthy shine, and the grass, soft and divine
and laughter is heard by the ample brook,
and all is well, in the valley, dales and dells.]
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[ Canst there be a measure for sorrow own?
Ye sensitive souls have only choice to feel
Into thy future ayla ye sees
Yea, heavy heart, heavy heart
To rest and solace, such longing
Unmounted hope upon dead mare
Taxing is such weary’s fare]