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Drunk with the joy of singing I forget myself and call thee friend who art my lord.

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I am restless. I am athirst for faraway things. My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance. O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute! I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.


Oh my only friend, my best beloved, the gates are open in my house-do not pass by like a dream.


It is the same life that emerges in joy through the dust of the earth into numberless waves of flower.


Lovers, forget your love And list to the love of these. She a window flower. And he a winter breeze.


Lord, I have loved Your sky,Be it said against or for me,Have loved it clear and high,Or low and stormy.


Not hammer-strokes, but dance of the water, sings the pebbles into perfection.