—Frederick G. Scott.


THE immortal spirit hath no bars

To circumscribe its dwelling-place;

My soul hath pastured with the stars

Upon the meadow-lands of space.


My mind and ear at times have caught,

From realms beyond our mortal reach,

The utterance of Eternal Thought,

Of which all nature is the speech.


And high above the seas and lands,

On peaks just tipped with morning light,

My dauntless spirit mutely stands

With eagle wings outspread for flight.


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