"Softly the evening came /with the sunset/."
"As great Pythagoras of yore, Standing beside the blacksmith's door, And hearing the hammers, as they smote The anvils with a different note, Stole from the varying tones, that hung Vibrant on every iron tongue, The secret of the sounding wire. And formed the seven-chorded lyre."
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Source: Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1848). “Poems”, p.105
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