In all the silent manliness of grief.
In all my wanderings round this world of care, In all my griefs-and God has given my share- I still had hopes my latest hours to crown, Amidst these humble bowers to lay me down.
There is yet a silent agony in which the mind appears to disdain all external help, and broods over its distresses with gloomy reserve. This is the most dangerous state of mind; accidents or friendships may lessen the louder kinds of grief, but all remedies for this must be had from within, and there despair too often finds the most deadly enemy.
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