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112
SOMEWHERE.
Somewhere there is a spot of ground,
Covered with grass, or snow, may be,
That one day will be spaded 'round
And dug up to make room for me.
Covered with grass, or snow, may be,
That one day will be spaded 'round
And dug up to make room for me.
And I unconsciously have trod,
Perhaps, and so again may tread
Upon the very voiceless sod,
That will be roof above my head.
Perhaps, and so again may tread
Upon the very voiceless sod,
That will be roof above my head.
Somewhere upon the earth to-day
Are dwelling men, who yet shall spade
And cut and dig the earth away,
Until my narrow house is made.
Are dwelling men, who yet shall spade
And cut and dig the earth away,
Until my narrow house is made.
Perchance they have clasped hands with me;
Those hands, that, after I am dead,
Shall measure me so reverently,
To find how long to make my bed.
Those hands, that, after I am dead,
Shall measure me so reverently,
To find how long to make my bed.
How strangely, solemn thoughts like these
Will come, when life seems blithe and gay;
Like voices of the passing breeze,
Saying “All things must pass away–”
Will come, when life seems blithe and gay;
Like voices of the passing breeze,
Saying “All things must pass away–”
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