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Standing on Tiptoe

 
Standing on tiptoe ever since my youth,
 Striving to grasp the future just above,
I hold at length the only future—Truth,
 And Truth is Love.
 
I feel as one who being awhile confined
 Sees drop to dust about him all his bars:—
The clay grows less, and, leaving it, the mind
 Dwells with the stars.
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