534 We see—Comparatively— The Thing so towering high We could not grasp its segment Unaided—Yesterday— This Morning`s finer Verdict— Makes scarcely worth the toil— A furrow—Our Cordillera— Our Apennine—a Knoll— Perhaps `tis kindly—done us— The Anguish—and the loss— The wrenching—for His Firmament The Thing belonged to us— To spare these Striding Spirits Some Morning of Chagrin— The waking in a Gnat`s—embrace— Our Giants—further on—SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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