The sunshine of thine eyes,(O still celestial beam!)Whatever it touches it fillsWith the life of its lambent gleam.The sunshine of thine eyes,Oh, let it fall on me!Though I be but a mote of the air,I could turn to gold for thee.
I know not where His islands liftTheir fronded palms in air;I only know I cannot driftBeyond His love and care.john greenleaf whittier
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