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Solitude |
Solitude, night—what pang is here? Are not stars your comrades? Clear |
Majesty of those silent skies, Drowsed earth, deep silence of the worlds, |
That moon, that wilderness and hill— White rose-beds all creation fill. |
Sweet are the teardrops that have pearled Like gleaming gems, like stars, your eyes; |
But what thing do you crave? All Nature, Oh my heart, is your fellow-creature. |
Translated by: V.G. Kiernan |