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 ashamed to waste strength or stratagem upon defenceless infancy.

True, these trusting natures suffer much in life's combat. Disappointment deals them crushing blows; they find many of their idols made of clay; many a seeming oak, against which they lean, proves a broken reed; many a flower, cherished in their bosoms, exhales poison. They shrink, appalled, from the harsh lessons of Experience, who teaches them how few in the world resemble themselves; yet their very trustfulness is its own compensation.

It is the province of poets to condense truths in music that haunts the mind with its ringing changes. Among these haunting truths, wedded. to melodious verse, are Fanny Kemble's lines: