The eyes of a man in the jaundice make yellow observations on everything; and the soul tinctured with any passion diffuses a false color over the appearance of things.
But, children, you should never let Such angry passions rise; Your little hands were never made To tear each other's eyes.
When I can read my title clear To mansions in the skies, I'll bid farewell to every fear, And wipe my weeping eyes.
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