Our Little Landscape
A CROSS the little landscape of our lives
The shadows of the whole world seem to flit;
Ere one departs another one arrives,
So limited, so very small is it.
The passions of the universe crowd here—
Here gather Love and Joy and Hate and Pain:
The first fall ill, soon leave us with a tear;
The last, at once acclimatized, remain.
From East to West 'tis scarce a tenth degree,
This parallelogram whereon we dwell;
'Tis only fifty miles from sea to sea,
But far from heaven, far too close to hell!
The shadows of the whole world seem to flit;
Ere one departs another one arrives,
So limited, so very small is it.
The passions of the universe crowd here—
Here gather Love and Joy and Hate and Pain:
The first fall ill, soon leave us with a tear;
The last, at once acclimatized, remain.
From East to West 'tis scarce a tenth degree,
This parallelogram whereon we dwell;
'Tis only fifty miles from sea to sea,
But far from heaven, far too close to hell!
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