Song. In the Touchstone
My tears—alas! I cannot speak!
Must thank this goodness, sure, divine!
For had I words—words are too weak,
Too poor to vent such thoughts as mine.
The sun, in its meridian height,
Will gratitude like this inspire;
Whose kindly heat and piercing light,
We wonder at, and we admire.
Must thank this goodness, sure, divine!
For had I words—words are too weak,
Too poor to vent such thoughts as mine.
The sun, in its meridian height,
Will gratitude like this inspire;
Whose kindly heat and piercing light,
We wonder at, and we admire.
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