and a sleep
Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing.
Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing
A flowery band to bind us to the earth,
Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth
Of noble natures, of the gloomy days,
(a) What are we doing every day?
(b) Describe bad and evil things that plague man.
(c) What removes the pall from our dark spirits and how?
(d) Name the poet.