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O word I love to sing! thou art too tender

For all the passions agitating me;

For all my bitterness thou art too tender,

I cannot pour my red soul into thee.

O haunting melody! thou art too slender,

Too fragile like a globe of crystal glass;

For all my stormy thoughts thou art too slender,

The burden from my bosom will not pass.

O tender word! O melody so slender!

O tears of passion saturate with brine,

O words, unwilling words, ye can not render

My hatred for the foe of me and mine.