What more is there to say, Souls in sorrow weep Shattered hearts replay The hour of death to keep
Alive the dying face Beloved of all things. Remembrance is a grace To which our being clings
Until we realize The soul in us that knows Nothing ever dies, To life there is no close
And we must carry on, The need for death explore Until the work is done And God is found once more.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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