Volume 3 — CLAIMS.
Reading edition
Nay,--claim it not, the lightest joy that throws Its transient blushes o'er the beaming earth Or the sweet hope in any living thing As thine by birth. No precious sympathy, no thoughtful care, No touch of tenderness, however near; But watch the blossoming of life's delight With sacred fear. Have joy in life, and gladden to the sense Of dear companionship, in thought, in sight; But oh! as gifts of heaven's abounding love, Not thine by right.
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