Into My Own

Into My Own!

One of my wishes is that those dark trees,
So old and :finn they scarcely show the breeze,
Were not, as ’twere, the merest mask of gloonl,
But stretched away unto the edge of doom.
I should not be withheld but that some day
Into their vastness I should steal away,
Fearless of ever finding open land,
Or highwey where the slow wheel pours the sand.
I do not see why I should e’er turn back,
Or those should not set forth upon my track
To overtake me, who should miss me here
And long to know if still I held them dear.
They would not find me changed from him they knewOnly more sure of all I thought was true.

Into My Own

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