The din of multitudes that onward move; The voice of conscience in the heart below; The waves, which Thou, O Lord, alone canst still; Th' elastic air; the streamlet on its way; And all that man projects, or sovereigns will; Or things inanimate might seem to say; The strain of gondolier slow streaming by; The lively barks that o'er the waters bound; The trees that shake their foliage to the sky; The wailing voice that fills the cots around; And man, who studies with an aching heart

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