A Solemn thing within the Soul To feel itself get ripe — And golden hang — while farther up — The Maker`s Ladders stop — And in the Orchard far below — You hear a Being — drop — A Wonderful — to feel the Sun Still toiling at the Cheek You thought was finished — Cool of eye, and critical of Work — He shifts the stem — a little — To give your Core — a look — But solemnest — to know Your chance in Harvest moves A little nearer — Every Sun The Single — to some lives.SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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