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THE TWO HOMES.
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THE TWO HOMES.
Oh! if the soul immortal be,
Is not its love immortal too?
Seest thou my home?—'tis where yon woods are waving,
In their dark richness, to the summer air;
Where yon blue stream, a thousand flower-banks laving,
Leads down the hills a vein of light, —'tis there!
"Midst those green wilds how many a fount lies gleaming,
Fringed with the violet, colour'd with the skies!
