Nothing is ever really lost, or can be lost, No birth, identity, form-no object the world, Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing; Appearance must not foil, nor shifted sphere confuse thy brain. Ample are time and space-ample the fields of Nature. The body, sluggish, aged, cold-the embers left from earlier fires, The light in the eye grown dim, shall duly flame again; The sun now low in the west rises for mornings and for noons continual; To frozen clods ever the spring's invisible law returns, With grass and flowers and summer fruits and corn.
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