< Page:Pocahontas, and Other Poems.djvu
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THE BEREAVED FATHER. 285
Beside his glorious throne they rest, on seraph-harps they
play; Why should I wish them back again in these cold tents
of clay? A stricken, not a mouniful man, I sigh, but not
repine, For my heart is in that land of love, with those I hope to
join.
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