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Poem by William Wordsworth
Composed at the Same Time and on the Same Occasion
I dropped my pen; and listened to the Wind That sang of trees uptorn and vessels tost-- A midnight harmony; and wholly lost To the general sense of men by chains confined Of business, care, or pleasure; or resigned To timely sleep. Thought I, the impassioned strain, Which, without aid of numbers, I sustain, Like acceptation from the World will find. Yet some with apprehensive ear shall drink A dirge devoutly breathed o'er sorrows past; And to the attendant promise will give heed-- The prophecy,--like that of this wild blast, Which, while it makes the heart with sadness shrink, Tells also of bright calms that shall succeed.
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