How can I think, or edge my thoughts to action, When the miserly press of each day`s need Aches to a narrowness of spilled distraction My soul appalled at the world`s work`s time-greed? How can I pause my thoughts upon the task My soul was born to think that it must do When every moment has a thought to ask To fit the immediate craving of its cue? The coin I`d heap for marrying my Muse And build our home i`th` greater Time-to-be Becomes dissolved by needs of each day`s use And I feel beggared of infinity, Like a true-Christian sinner, each day flesh-driven By his own act to forfeit his wished heaven.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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