There is a Languor of the Life More imminent than Pain - 'Tis Pain's Successor - When the Soul Has suffered all it can - A Drowsiness - diffuses - A Dimness like a Fog Envelops Consciousness - As Mists - obliterate a Crag.
The Surgeon - does not blanch - at pain His Habit - is severe - But tell him that it ceased to feel - The Creature lying there -
And he will tell you - skill is late - A Mightier than He - Has ministered before Him - There's no Vitality.
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