Poems by William W. Story | ||
[XVII. What strange and magic power in sympathy resides?]
What strange and magic power in sympathy resides?
It doubles all our joys, our sorrows it divides.
It doubles all our joys, our sorrows it divides.
How sweet, dear friend, to feel that I with thee may share
Whatever life may bring of thought, or hope, or care.
Whatever life may bring of thought, or hope, or care.
Yet in his inmost self must each one stand alone,
Be, think, decide, act, die,—a single separate one.
Be, think, decide, act, die,—a single separate one.
Poems by William W. Story | ||