human
To undergo experience for our sake, Just that the gift of pain, bestowed on them, In us might temper to the due degree Joy's else-excessive largess,
gpt
Plot-culture, by which human life is peremptorily walled in within its narrow round of tasks,
human
is followed by the lyric which tells how Love transcends those limits, making an eternity of time and a universe of solitude. Finally, the burden of these wayward intermittent strains of love-music is caught up, with an added intensity drawn from the poet's personal love and sorrow, in the noble Epilogue. As he listens to the call of Love, the world becomes an enchanted place, resounding with the triumph of good and the exultant battle-joy of heroes. But a
gpt
What if all be error, If the halo irised round my head were--Love, thine arms?