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[222] Ah, soul of mine, thy tones I hear,
     But weak and low,
Like far sad murmurs on my ear
     They come and go.

“I have wrestled stoutly with the Wrong,
     And borne the Right
From beneath the footfall of the throng
     To life and light.

Wherever Freedom shivered a chain,
     God speed, quoth I;
To Error amidst her shouting train
     I gave the lie. “

Ah, soul of mine! ah, soul of mine!
     Thy deeds are well:
Were they wrought for Truth's sake or for thine?
     My soul, pray tell.

“Of all the work my hand hath wrought
     Beneath the sky,
Save a place in kindly human thought,
     No gain have I.”

Go to, go to! for thy very self
     Thy deeds were done:
Thou for fame, the miser for pelf,
     Your end is one!

And where art thou going, soul of mine?
     Cast see the end?
And whither this troubled life of thine
     Evermore doth tend?

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