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Methinks that there abides in thee 
Some concord with humanity, 
Given to no other flower I see 
The forest thorough ! 
Is it that man is soon deprest? 
A thoughtless thing ! who, once unblest, 
Does little on his memory rest, 
Or on his reason, 
And thou wouldst teach him how to find 
A shelter under every wind, 
A hope for times that are unkind, 
And every season? 
Thou wander’st the wide world about, 
Uncheck’d by pride or scrupulous doubt, 
With friends to greet thee, or without, 
Yet pleased and willing ; 
Meek, yielding to the occasion’s call, 
And all things suffering from all, 
Thy function apostolical 
In peace fulfilling. 
WORDSWORTH. 

et Nn OLS are meee 
