Make ends meet

breast, Whence o'er the elements his sway, But from the harmony that,

gushing from his soul, Draws back into his heart the wondrous whole? With

careless hand when round her spindle, Nature Winds the interminable thread

of life; When 'mid the clash of Being every creature Mingles in harsh

inextricable strife; Who deals their course unvaried till it falleth, In rhythmic

flow to music's measur'd tone? Each solitary note whose genius calleth, To

swell the mighty choir in unison? Who in the raging storm sees passion

low'ring? Or flush of earnest thought in evening's glow? Who every blossom in