| http://www.w3.org/ns/prov#value | - When I have gazedFrom some high eminence on goodly valesAnd cots and villages embower would below,The thought would rise that all to me was strangeAmid the scene so fair, nor one small spotWhere my tir would mind might rest and call it home,There is a magic in that little word;It is a mystic circle that surroundsComforts and Virtues never known beyondThe hallowed limit.
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