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CCXCII

Oh thou of dark forebodings drear,

Oh thou of such a faithless heart,

Hast thou forgotten what thou art,

That thou hast ventured so to fear?

No weed on ocean's bosom cast,

Borne by its never-resting foam

This way and that, without a home,

Till flung on some bleak shore at last:

But thou the lotus, which above

Sway'd here and there by wind and tide,

Yet still below doth fix'd abide,

Fast rooted in the eternal Love.

236
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