Oh, the glance of the dew! Oh, the flame of the rose springing forth of the thorn!
Oh, the song of the arrow-marked finch singing love in the front of the morn!
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We that are God's one creation, yet strangers, might be less strange!
But this is the pain of the pleasure — the bitter-sweet which man drains:
Unconscious-glad Nature unconscious of man forever remains! philosophical. tony
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We that are God's one creation, yet strangers, might be less strange! But this is the pain of the pleasure — the bitter-sweet which man drains: Unconscious-glad Nature unconscious of man forever remains! philosophical. tony