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Hear’st tliou a new, sweet voice essay 
The strains which angels sing ? 
See’st tliou along the star-paved way 
A seraph blest, in bright array 
Soar on exultant wing, 
With harp in hand, and palm-crown’d brow ? 
Fond mother, such thine infant now. 
And would’st thou round the free — the blest — 
Earth’s fetters re-entwine ? 
Or once again with thorns invest 
Those brows, where now sweet peace doth rest. 
And cloudless bliss doth shine ? 
No—thy sole wish is now, to rise, 
And join thy loved one in the skies. 
