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HILL DUTIFUL
[“ . . . Since it is the will of God that thou shouldst learn to hear tribulation without consolation. . . .” Imitation of Christ.]
There was a Traveller I beheld one day;
Down in a valley, wrapt in dreams, he lay.
Before his closéd eyelids, sheer and sharp,
Torn into peak and chasm and jagged scarp,
A mighty mountain from the vale uprose.
Down in a valley, wrapt in dreams, he lay.
Before his closéd eyelids, sheer and sharp,
Torn into peak and chasm and jagged scarp,
A mighty mountain from the vale uprose.
He slept; but from that sleep of scant repose,
Broken by frequent start and fitful sigh,
Woke, as I watch’d, with a most bitter cry:
“Rest! Rest! O thou wild brain, and beating breast,
What will assuage this torment? O for rest!”
(I heard the mountain-echo answer: “Rest!”)
Broken by frequent start and fitful sigh,
Woke, as I watch’d, with a most bitter cry:
“Rest! Rest! O thou wild brain, and beating breast,
What will assuage this torment? O for rest!”
(I heard the mountain-echo answer: “Rest!”)
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