The danger of feeling is in this, that
too terrible for flesh, it may remember
some slight kinship with divinity, and ever
after stick with that, and all the note
of a song has to undo's harder. In
pity and fear love finds its birth, and from
terror and pity love flies like a god come
into its own, still being where it has been.
The danger of feeling's flesh, all else immortal,
calm, self-contained and self-renewing, ever
the same whomever yet may now endeavor
to tell what soul it lives beyond body's recall.
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