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When some thin thought-wave
From the shadow shore
Brings the Voice once more
From beyond the grave;
When some pain is prest
Deep into the breast,
And the inward thoughts are swords
Killing one with sadness;
Most when love is strong,
And the anguish long
Rolls up in a haste of words
Ending all in madness—
Who is he that soothes or cheers?
Who believes? who hears?
Ay, when the Heart grieves,
Pants, prays—who believes?—
