If yon bright stars which gem the night
Be each a blissful dwelling-sphere
Where kindred spirits reunite
Whom death hath torn asunder here,—
How sweet it were at once to die,
To leave this blighted orb afar!
Mixt soul and soul to cleave the...
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’MID white Sierras, that slope to the sea, I but sing for the love of song and the few |
Cocoon above! Cocoon below! |
How the Waters closed above Him |
Papa above! |
These held their Wick above the West — |