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PILGRIM.
137
PILGRIM.
On my hat a feather,
In my hand a staff,
I have wandered slowly,
The world’s better half.
Far away from your heart,
Far and far away,
When I could not think, heart,
Then I sang all day.
On my hat a feather,
In my heart a pain,
I have wandered slowly,
O’er and o’er the plain.
But at length I turned me,
Once more to the past.
Useless to forget thee—
Heart, I came at last.
