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The Poetical Works of George MacDonald

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I sit and gaze from window high

Down on the noisy street:

No part in this great coil have I,

No fate to go and meet.

My books unopened long have lain;

In class I am all astray:

questions growing in my brain, Demand and have their way.

Knowledge is power, the people cry;

Grave men the lure repeat:

After some rarer thing I sigh,

That makes the pulses beat.

truths, new facts, they preach aloud-- Their tones like wisdom fall:
sunbeam glancing on a cloud Hints things beyond them all.

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