but to every mind there openeth
a way and a way and aways
a high soul climbs the highway
and in between on the misty flats
the rest drift to and fro
but to every man there openeth
a high way and a low one ship and another west
tis the set of the sail
and not the gales
the tells the way we go
like the winds of the sea
are we journey along through life
tis the set of the soul
that determines the goals
and not the calm or the strife
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