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Life have range of sense,
But also have range of tense,It rose in offense
And struck me a blow
In the seat of my sense.Only that underlying sense
Of the look of a room on returning thence.G stands for Gnu, whose weapon of defence
Are long, sharp, curling horns, and common sense.Distills amazing sense
From ordinary Meanings—
And Attar so immenseInsepulchred and deathless, through the dense
Deep elements may scarce be felt as pure
Soul within sense.That sees immediate good by present sense;
Reason, the future and the consequence.And a firm will, and a deep sense,
Which even in torture can descry
Its own concenter'd recompense,Of music so delicate, soft, and intense,
It was felt like an odour within the sense;It oft induces grave offense,
A wise man drinks with common sense.And while they argued in thy just defence
With logic clear, they thus explained the sense:Win thee from hastening hence?
Was the soul so much more unto thee
Than joys of mind and sense?Softest on sorrow's wound, and slowly thence,
(Lulling to sad repose the weary sense)Elate explorer of each sense,
Without dismay, without pretense!No one of finely-pointed sense
Would violate a confidence,In search of wit these lose their common sense,
And then turn Critics in their own defence:So I worked for hours upon it (I go on when I commence),
And I kept in view the rhythm and the jingle and the sense,Still conjugating with each failing sense
The verb “to die” in every mood and tense,For love, that comes wherever life and sense
Are given by God, in thee was most intense;When charms thus press on every sense,
What thought of flight or of defence?