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Rh I love them quits and quits—I do not halt and make
 * salaams.

I lie abstracted, and hear beautiful tales of things,
 * and the reasons of things,

They are so beautiful, I nudge myself to listen.

I cannot say to any person what I hear—I cannot
 * say it to myself—it is very wonderful.

It is no small matter, this round and delicious globe,
 * moving so exactly in its orbit forever and ever,
 * without one jolt, or the untruth of a single
 * second,

I do not think it was made in six days, nor in ten
 * thousand years, nor ten billions of years,

Nor planned and built one thing after another, as an
 * architect plans and builds a house.

I do not think seventy years is the time of a man or
 * woman,

Nor that seventy millions of years is the time of a
 * man or woman,

Nor that years will ever stop the existence of me, or
 * any one else.

Is it wonderful that I should be immortal? as every
 * one is immortal,

I know it is wonderful—but my eye-sight is equally
 * wonderful, and how I was conceived in my mother's
 * womb is equally wonderful;