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190 FABER'S HYMNS.
Silence itself is but a heaviness, As if the earth were fainting in distress, Like one who wakes at night in panic fears, And naught but his own beating pulses hears.
Inanimate things can rise into despair; And, when the thunders bellow in the air, Amid the mountains, earth sends forth a cry, Like dying monsters in their agony. |
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The sea,, unmated creature, tired and lone, Makes on its desolate sands eternal moan: Lakes on the calmest days are ever throbbing Upon their pebbly shores with petulant sobbing.
O'er the white waste, cold grimly overawes And hushes life beneath its merciless laws; Invisible heat drops down from tropic skies, And o'er the land, like an oppression, lies. |
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