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42 As Thou didst live all sanctified, As Thou in solitude hast died, Help me to die, and live." Agnes had sung, as sings the summer wind That dies away in shadows ; but Mark's voice Came thunderous, like some Gregorian chant, With neither harmony nor melody, But roughened largeness in its monotone : " I, standing here, fling back my agony Against the brazen glory of the sky ; Ye brutish clouds, that all insensate lie, And smile, and smile, in blandest idiocy, Ye are but low, although ye seem to be Above our earth so very calm and high, For depth is height, and heart-deep is my cry, Man only fathoms human agony." I shivered, Agnes drew me to her side. " The child is shaken with our stormy winds." " ' The child ! ' " Mark cried, " 'tis evermore * the child : ' If I were dying, you would moan, ' The child ! ' If I were dead, you still would sigh, i The child ! ' "