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Viii.

Yet, on life's current, he who drifts
     Is one with him who rows or sails;
And he who wanders widest lifts
     No more of beauty's jealous veils
Than he who from his doorway sees
     The miracle of flowers and trees,
Feels the warm Orient in the noonday air,
     And from cloud minarets hears the sunset call to prayer!

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