Page:Poems (IA poemstennalfr00tennrich).pdf/170

TO J. S.

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i.

The wind, that beats the mountain, blows

⁠More softly round the open wold,
And gently comes the world to those
⁠That are cast in gentle mould.

ii.

And me this knowledge bolder made,

⁠Or else I had not dared to flow
In these words toward you, and invade
⁠Even with a verse your holy woe.