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To some sweet spot of rest, and share 
The hermit’s cell, the hermit’s fare, 
Such fare, as Nature in the wild 
Can proffer to her lowly child, 
Served up in quaint but fitting sort, 
In dish of veined maple wrought; 
And there to learn the saintly lore 
Which holy Nature has in store 
For those who view with thoughtful eye 
The wonders of the earth and sky, 
And, freed from turmoil and annoy, 
There woo sweet Peace, and Peace enjoy. 
Peace ! — fond enthusiast; deem’st thou, then, 
She needs must live in lonely glen, 
In desert wilds, or mountain cave, 
Lull’d by the fountain’s welling wave, 
Or by the many-voiced trees, 
Slow waving in the midnight breeze? 
Ah ! foolish one — recall that thought; 
There’s not on earth one certain spot 
Where Peace doth make her home. Oh ! yes, 
One home she hath, one dwelling-place, 
