Every day
Richly expending thy much-bruise/d heart
I speak for each no-tongue/d tree
I'm gwine to stand stiff-legged for de Lord dis blesse\d day.
`Yes,' I rejoined, `a difference toto c(oe)lo,' whereat he laughed again,
Superb and sole, upon a plume/d spray [1]
All instances of Cyclop(ae)dia
On the sense, entrance/d, flinging
(Ae)olian
The globe/d clarity of receiving space,
From part oft sundered, yet ever a globe/d light,
`Nirva^na'
End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of Select Poems of Sidney Lanier
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