Back o'er the deep I turn my longing eyes, And chide the wayward passions that rebel: Yet boots it not to think, or to complain, Musing sad ditties to the reckless main. To dreams like these, adieu! the pealing bell Speaks of the hour that stays notand the day To life's sad turmoil calls my heart away.

William Lisle Bowles
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3 Lies That Bind Us to Guilt and Shame