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So those two voices met; so Joy and Death Mingled their accents; and amidst the rush Of many thoughts, the listening Poet cried, —"Oh! thou art mighty, thou art wonderful, Mysterious Nature! Not in thy free range Of woods and wilds alone, thou blendest thus The dirge-note and the song of festival; But in one heart, one changeful human heart —Aye, and within one hour of that strange world— Thou call'st their music forth, with all its tones To startle and to pierce!—the dying Swan's, And the glad Sky-Lark's—Triumph and Despair!"