If thou be one whose heart the holy forms<br>Of young imagination have kept pure$$$<br>Stranger! henceforth be warned; and know$$$ that pride$$$<br>Howe'er disguised in its own majesty$$$<br>Is littleness; that he$$$ who feels contempt<br>For any living thing$$$ hath faculties<br>Which he has never used; that thought with him<br>Is in its infancy.

Books! tis a dull and endless strife:<br>Come$$$ hear the woodland linnet$$$<br>How sweet his music! on my life$$$<br>There's more of wisdom in it.

There was a time when meadow$$$ grove$$$ and stream$$$<br>The earth$$$ and every common sight$$$<br>To me did seem<br>Apparelled in celestial light$$$<br>The glory and the freshness of a dream.<br>It is not now as it hath been of yore;<br>Turn wheresoe'er I may$$$<br>By night or day$$$<br>The things which I have seen I now can see no more.<br>The rainbow comes and goes$$$ <br>And lovely is the rose; <br>The moon doth with delight<br>Look round her when the heavens are bare;<br>Waters on a starry night<br&g

And homeless near a thousand homes I stood$$$ <br>And near a thousand tables pined and wanted food.

For I have learned to look on nature$$$ not as in the hour of thoughtless youth; but hearing oftentimes the still$$$ sad music of humanity.

My mind turned by anxiety$$$ or other cause$$$ from its scrutiny of blank paper$$$ is like a lost child wandering the house$$$ sitting on the bottom step to cry.

But Sasha was from Russia$$$ where the sunsets are longer$$$ the dawns less sudden and sentences are often left unfinished from doubt as how to best end them.

We are cut$$$ we are fallen. We are become part of that unfeeling universe that sleeps when we are at our quickest and burns red when we lie asleep.

It's not catastrophes$$$ murders$$$ deaths$$$ diseases$$$ that age and kill us; it's the way people look and laugh$$$ and run up the steps of omnibuses.

Truth had run through my fingers. Every drop had escaped.