With heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
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Anand Thakur
With heaven’s light upon their wings:Every word has its own spirit
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Every word man’s lips have uttered Echoes in God’s skies.
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Hours are golden links, God’s token Reaching heaven; but one by one Take them
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Dreams grow holy put in action; work grows fair through starry dreaming,
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It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
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Do not strive to grasp them all.
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To listen to Earth’s weary voices Louder every day Bidding her no longer linger
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Words are mighty, words are living:Serpents with their venomous stings,Or bright angels, crowding round us
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And yet We lost it in this daily jar and fret, And now live idle in a vague regret
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For when the horse and ass begin to think and argue, adieu to riding and driving.
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I know too well the poison and the sting of things too sweet.
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One by one bright gifts from heaven Joys are sent thee here below
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Have we not all, amid life’s petty strife
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Half my life is full of sorrow, Half of joy, still fresh and new
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Hark! the hours are softly calling Bidding Spring arise To listen to the rain-drops falling From the cloudy skies
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Each man has some part to play.
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