Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight. (Alfred, Lord Tennyson)

Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass'd in music out of sight.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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