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| acrylic on canvas, 11x14 inches. Oh,there is something, something dear to me, Sweet, inexpressible-too far and fine To be put down in phrases. It may be The half return of some lost love divine Which I half grasp again. I do not know, But something finds me through the spring night air That is not of this earth-that seems to go Straight to my inmost heart, and finding there Some hidden string, quick to the touch, it plays A strain unknown to me; but when I hear, Some sacred semblance of departed days. Lifts all my trembling spirit in a tear: Perhaps, unthought, divineness lingers yet Within the soul, that wakes but with regret. Robert Burns Wilson, 1887 |
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