Our doom is, to be sifted by
the wind, heaped up, smoothed
down like silly sands. We are less
permanent than thought.
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All emotions are the ore from which poetry may be sifted.
t. e. hulmeGod sifted a whole nation that he might send choice grain over into this wilderness.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowGod had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planting.
Henry Wadsworth LongfellowLo, sifted through the winds that blow, Down comes the soft and silent snow, White petals from the flowers that grow In the cold atmosphere.