"To be imprisoned in the viewless winds,
And blown with restless violence round about
The pendent world." - Measure for Measure.
THE eternal breath of God that whirls around
The swift-revolving world speaks through the groves,
And echoes from each granite-walled abyss
Of mountain-passes, "Immortality."
Unheeded on our deadened ears it falls
Unmeaning, for we will not trace the voice
Articulate which tells of wider spheres
For our activity; but, like a barge
Upon a stream beneath the noonday sun,
We lazily float on.
At times a parcel of this animus
Is prisoned in the shackles that it scorns,
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