And for all this, nature is never spent; there lives the dearest freshness deep down things; and though the last lights off the black west went oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— because the holy ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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And For All This, Nature Is Never
And for all this, nature is never spent; there lives the dearest freshness deep down things; and though the last lights off the black west went oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs— because the holy ghost over the bent world broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
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