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THE STARRY SKIES. 185 |
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It is as if a home was there, To which my soul was turning,
A home not seen, but nightly proved By a mysterious yearning. |
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It seems as if no actual space
Could hold it in its bond ; Thought climbs its highest, still it is
Always beyond, beyond.
Earth never feels like home, though fresh
And full its tide of mirth ; No glorious change we can conceive
Would make a home of earth. |
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