Soul

His soul so dead
To himself, never accepted
This is his own life
His heart within him burned
His footsteps turned, to sorrows
From wondering on a foreign land of joyfullness
Such feeling mark it well
For it, to return
With boundless joy,
only a wish can claim
Still you are blessed, compared with him
The present only touch it
But, he backward cast his eyes
On prospects drear
And forward, though he cannot see
He guess and fear.

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