PEACE in her chamber, wheresoe`er It be, a holy place: The thought still brings my soul such grace As morning meadows wear. Whether it still be small and light, A maid`s who dreams alone, As from her orchard-gate the moon Its ceiling showed at night: Or whether, in a shadow dense As nuptial hymns invoke, Innocent maidenhood awoke To married innocence: There still the thanks unheard await The unconscious gift bequeathed: For there my soul this hour has breathed An air inviolate.SourceThe script ran 0.009 seconds.
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