In days of illness the mind turns round and round No inspiration able to pierce through The numbing haze and the dark surround As body strives its stability to renew.
But there are forces inimical to health And minor gods who relish drama and play Upon the consciousness and the wealth Of silence and the peace for which we pray.
Recovery is slow when fever comes, There is at times unsettling of soul And pain in all its fury bites and numbs The forward-looking spirit and takes its toll.
One must bear attacks of forces negative, Hold close to Truth and always choose to live.
Poems Undated (1727)
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