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Sonnet from the Psalms.
All thro' the livelong night I lay awake
Watering my couch with tears of heaviness.
None stood beside me in my sore distress;—
Then cried I to my heart: If thou wilt, break,
But be thou still; no moaning will I make,
Nor ask man's help, nor kneel that he may bless.
So I kept silence in my haughtiness,
Till lo! the fire was kindled, and I spake
Saying: Oh that I had wings like to a dove,
Then would I flee away and be at rest:
I would not pray for friends, or hope, or love,
But still the weary throbbing of my breast;
And, gazing on the changeless heavens above,
Witness that such a quietness is best.
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