Chapter LXXV

Let us wrest beauty from all there is,
Each and all in their own poor way,
And blithely onward life will flow,
Rare like a long-drawn summer’s eve,
And we’ll hail and bless each moment
Before it fades into the dark.

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● Transcriber’s Notes:
○ Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation were made consistent only
when a predominant form was found in this book.
○ Text that was in italics is enclosed by underscores (_italics_).