FULL oft through some enchanted land I tread,
Wherein can live no hatred, pain, or fear,
Where all the heavens with Truth’s own light are clear,
And Love’s own tints o’er all the earth are spread;
Where, through illumined foliage overhead,
Swift, bright-winged birds will flash and disappear,
While murmuring voices from the leaves I hear,
Repeating all my heart in secret said.
Not there I dwell, and yet my home is there;
Those flower-grown paths I trod, a lonely child,
Breathing with simple joy the fragrant air:
Lured on by half-seen beauty even then,
With restless feet I roamed from hill to glen,
By gleaming birds, by whispering leaves beguiled.
(Constance Naden)
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