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8 I and Thou Must we cultivate our kindness? Can we book a fellow-feeling for the sake of the fellow, not the Ghost? Last night, for example, the whitehaired girl told us singing was like praying; and that iron of naturalized note in the bluegrass made me want to say sublime, sublime to myself, in the Sapphic sense that knows sublimity as love (O wash me green as yonder field); and the girl’s reed song did light from the stage, constellating phrases like Heavens divided in a quaver formed between forte and whisper, acute supple wavers among syllables and slants: and now may you keep me close within your ear; I can hear the voice I loved when I wondered at its dialect— you know, if I’m ever able to speak, I’ll want someone human to answer me. ...

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