Consolation
| O but there is wisdom |
| In what the sages said; |
| But stretch that body for a while |
| And lay down that head |
| Till I have told the sages |
| Where man is comforted. |
| How could passion run so deep |
| Had I never thought |
| That the crime of being born |
| Blackens all our lot? |
| But where the crime’s committed |
| The crime can be forgot. |
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