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John Milton

Say, Heavenly Muse, shall not thy sacred vein 15

Afford a present to the Infant God?

Hast thou no verse, no hymn, or solemn strain,

To welcome him to this his new abode,

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THE CONSOLATION

16 lines
W.B. Yeats·1865–1939·Symbolism
had this thought awhile ago,'My darling cannot understandWhat I have done, or what would doIn this blind bitter land.' And I grew weary of the sunUntil my thoughts cleared up again,Remembering that the best I have doneWas done to make it plain; That every year I have cried, 'At lengthMy darling understands it all,Because I have come into my strength,And words obey my call.' That had she done so who can sayWhat would have shaken from the sieve?I might have thrown poor words awayAnd been content to live.