"Nor do we merely feel these essences for one short hour no, even as these trees that whisper round a temple become soon dear as the temples self, so d...

When by my solitary hearth I sit,When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit,And the bare heath of life presents no bloom;Sweet Hope, ethereal balm upon me shed,And wave thy silver pinions o’er my head.
When by my solitary hearth I sit,When no fair dreams before my “mind’s eye” flit,And the bare heath ...
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