What of it forms, living's
Outcast notion;
Is flung, its flimsiness
Stilled air upon
Is that factual hardens
Pelts, wintry days
All the heads with iced shock;
With chilled dismays.
Visioning, more worthy
The spirit Man
As restores, through its hope
A divine plan
Is this, translated in
Sun's bright outpour;
With its attendant glow
Of trilled ardour.
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