I wonder whenWill come that hour of mine,The hour I may not share,When from the warm sunshineOf gentle Karth into the rareEthereal of the divineMy soul shall wander,—whereI may not know.—Sublime—Perchance, for me too fair.I wonder when—And yet I would not know:I love too well the things of Karth;I am not ready for the glowTo thrill me to new birth.—And yet, child-like, althoughToo well I love my Earth,I wonder when.
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