By the bounty of nature,
Fly the air of serenity,
At the hill of mature,
Boast chaos like eternity.
O wisp of glory!
When will thou come to me?
For ages hath I suffered fury,
But light is still gleamy.
(And sayeth the wisp...)
O ye! O ye!
Never will I come to thee,
Till ye know ye be,
Clear in what ye see.
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