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John Hall Wheelock



To what dark purpose was the Will employed That fashioned, ere the dawn of Time grew dim, The waste of ocean, from clear rim to rim A crystal chamber, sorrowful and void? For surely not without design He wrought These vast horizons on whose margins [...]

The Lowland Country

O that I might be again In the leafy solitudes Where the ancient beauty broods And the heart is healed of pain! In a certain hidden place Shined on by the evening star, Where the woods and waters are Dear as a beloved face. ’Tis a coun [...]