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| Face To Face O sweet illusions of song that tempt me everywhere, In the lonely fields, and the throng of the crowded thoroughfare! I approach and ye vanish away, I grasp you, and ye are gone; But ever by night and by day, The melody soundeth on. As the weary traveler sees In desert or prairie vast, Blue lakes, overhung with trees that a pleasant shadow cast; Fair towns with turrets high, and shining roofs of gold, That vanish as he draws nigh, Like mists together rolled -- So I wander and wander along, and forever before me gleams The shining city of song, in the beautiful land of dreams. But when I would enter the gate of that golden atmosphere, It is gone, and I wonder and wait for the vision to reappear. Henry Wadsworth Lonfellow's "Fata Morgana" |
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