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not lose the sense of mystery
 * That broods about our little lives and springs
 * Eternal from the unknown heart of things,

Nor miss by rude familiarity Perception of the finer harmony
 * That underlies all dissonance and brings
 * The unseen to our consciousness and flings

A glory round our way continually.

For they alone shall win their happiness
 * Who still make room for things inscrutable;

And he who sees the greater in the less—
 * Who finds in folded leaf or purple bell

The Infinite—doth in himself possess
 * Some kinship with the daily miracle.