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George Eliot - With thy coming Melody was come. This...
With thy coming Melody was come. This was thy lot, to feel, create, bestow, And that immeasurable life to know From which the fleshly self falls shrivelled, dead, A seed primeval that has forests bred. (George Eliot)

With thy coming Melody was come. This was thy lot, to feel, create, bestow, And that immeasurable life to know From which the fleshly self falls shrivelled, dead, A seed primeval that has forests bred.

George Eliot

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bestow breed coming dead immeasurable life melody seed self falls

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