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Show ENDURA1NCE. How much the heart can bear and yet not, break, How much the fleFh may suffer, yet not die. I doubt If pain of soul, or ache Of body brings our end more nigh. Death chooses his own time. Until that morn . All evils may be borne. We shrink and shudder at the surgeon's knife, Each nerve recoiling from the cruel steel, Whose edge seems searching for our very life. Yet to our sensethese bitter pangs reveal That still, although the trembling flesh be torn. This also can be borne. We see a sorrow rising in our way. And try to flee from the approaching ill. We see some small escape, we weep and pray; But when the blow falls then our hearts are still Not that the pain is of its sharpness shorn, ' But that it must be borne. We wind our life around another life. And hold it closer, nearer, dearer than our own; Alas! it faints and falls in earthly strife, Leaving us stunned and strickened and alone. But Ah! we do not die, although we mourn; This also can be borne. Behold! we live through all things, famine, thirst, Pain, misery and grief, but ss: ill we cannot die. On soul and body life inflicts its worst; We still live on and try to fly From hideous night to coming morn. Thus all things can be borne. Nemo. |