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William Blake

When despair for the world grows in me

I go and lie down where the wood-drake rests

In his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

That do not tax their lives with forethought of grief.

I come into the presence of still water,

And feel above me the day-blind stars

Waiting with their light.

And for a time I rest in the peace of the world

And am free.