 | Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight |  |
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CVIII. VERSE AND POETRY.
Verse is but fire that crackles on the ground,Or from a parlour grate sheds warmth around;
But Poetry's the lightning-flash on high,
When thunder rides exultant o'er the sky,
And bursting clouds disclose, all rent and riven,
The awful pomp and majesty of Heaven.
| Interludes and Undertones, or, Music at Twilight | |