To You, Abroad
Though you have left this land,
Our minds walk hand in hand.
Parted by ocean's bowl,
We whisper soul to soul.
Your way turns east, mine, west,—
Your bosom burns my breast!
Space cannot mar the bliss
Of holy hours, like this,
That make a swift, sublime
Eternity of time.
Our minds walk hand in hand.
Parted by ocean's bowl,
We whisper soul to soul.
Your way turns east, mine, west,—
Your bosom burns my breast!
Space cannot mar the bliss
Of holy hours, like this,
That make a swift, sublime
Eternity of time.
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