Now$$$ in this blank of things$$$ a harmony$$$<br>Home-felt$$$ and home-created$$$comes to heal<br>That grief for which the senses still supply <br>Fresh food; for only then$$$ when memory<br>Is hushed$$$ am I at rest. My Friends! restrain those busy cares that would allay my pain;<br>Oh! Leave me to myself$$$ nor let me feel<br>The officious touch that makes me droop again.
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