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HOME
I
Back from the world of strangers,
From exile drear I come.
It is as tho’ these mountains
Had been my earliest home.
For all the pines and pastures,
And all the snows above,
And all the blue beyond them,
Sing; and their song is Love.
And all the peasant-faces
Are brother-faces to me;
For this is Home—with Nature,
And love, and liberty!
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