PRELUDE. 66 Learn, that henceforth thy song shall be, Not mountains capped with snow, Nor forests sounding like the sea, Nor rivers flowing ceaselessly, "There is a forest where the din Of iron branches sounds! Sees the heavens all black with sin,- "Athwart the swinging branches cast, Then comes the fearful wintry blast; Pallid lips say, 'It is past! We can return no more!' "Look, then, into thine heart, and write! Yes, into Life's deep stream! All forms of sorrow and delight, |