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LANDLOCK’D
Here, where beyond yon straight-ruled rim
Of inland pasture high,
Rich with some latent meaning swim
Long lines of purple sky:
What ails my soul? Where all is well
Her quietude what jars?
Why raves she round her prison-cell
And battles at the bars?
“O, swift my longing oversprings
Yon shore’s last dip and rise!
O, well I know, beneath the wings
Of yon descending skies
Who waits! whose widely opening arms
Summon, to set me free!”
“O fool! that a delusion charms,
Yonder is not the sea.
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