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Heaven (Poem)

We dream of Heav'n, and lo beneath the skies,
Close-covering in loveliness the way,
We come and go adreaming day by day,
The mystery of Heav’n serenely lies
Unfolded at the curtain of our eyes,
Through circling centuries. Indeed we may
Discover many things for which we pray
Flung all around. Ideals immortalize
In those beloved features that remain
Immutable to perfidy and crime,
In those things we have loved that come again,
Over the reaping ravages of time—
All-red the poppy-patches reappear;
And we can be in Heav'n abiding here.

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Norah M. Crawford

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