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Longing? To live in the surge
Without a resting-place in time.
Wishes? Soft communions
Of the poor hours with Eternity.
And this is Life!—till cut of a constellation
The loneliest of all the hours doth rise,
That with a smile unlike her other sisters,
Mutely gazes at the Everlasting.
This is my Battle-cry:
That I
May roam through Time
By noblest longing consecrated.
Then broad and strong,
With a thousand roots,
Fasten deep into Life,
And through sorrow and strife,
Grow far out of Life,
Far out of Time.
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