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Poem by William Wordsworth

Where lies the truth? has Man, in wisdom’s creed,

A pitiable doom; for respite brief

A care more anxious, or a heavier grief?

Is he ungrateful, and doth little heed

God’s bounty, soon forgotten; or indeed,

Must Man, with labour born, awake to sorrow

When Flowers rejoice and Larks with rival speed

Spring from their nests to bid the Sun good morrow?

They mount for rapture as their songs proclaim

Warbled in hearing both of earth and sky;

But o’er the contrast wherefore heave a sigh?

Like those aspirants let us soar our aim,

Through life’s worst trials, whether shocks or snares,

A happier, brighter, purer Heaven than theirs.

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