Where shall I, of wandering weary, Find my resting-place at last? Under drooping southern palm-trees? Under limes the Rhine sweeps past? Will it be in deserts lonely, Dug by unfamiliar hands? Shall I slumber where the ocean Crawls along the yellow sands? It matters not! Around me ever There as here God`s heaven lies, And by night, as death-lamps o`er me, Lo, His stars sweep through the skies!SourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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