...striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power; Ah! yes, and they benumb us at our call: Yet still, from time to...into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...

...striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupifying power; Ah. yes, and they benumb us at our call : Yet still, from time...melancholy into all our day. 'Only — but this is rare — J . When a beloved hand is laid in our's, When jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable...

...striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupifying power ; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call : Yet still, from time...into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...

...demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power ; Ah yes, and they benumb из at our call : Yet still, from time to time, vague...subterranean depth upborne As from an infinitely distant laud, Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is...

...the soul's subterranean depth upborne As from an indefinitely distant hind, Come airs, and Heating echoes, and convey A melancholy into all our day. "Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in onrs, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...

...inward striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call: Yet still, from time to...into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...

...inward striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb Us at our call ; — Yet still, from time...into all our day. Only — but this is rare, — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...

...inward striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call : Yet still, from time...distant land, Come airs, and floating echoes, and convoy A melancholy into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in...

...inward striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupifying power; Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call: Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn, power, From the soul's subterranean depth upborne As from an infinitely distant land, Come airs, and...

...striving, and demand Of all the thousand nothings of the hour Their stupefying power ; Ah ! yes, and they benumb us at our call ; Yet still, from time...into all our day. Only — but this is rare — When a beloved hand is laid in ours, When, jaded with the rush and glare Of the interminable hours, Our...