Poemetry: Where the Soul Rests

A bed for the body,

A pillow for the head:

Pieces of peaceful homes,

Are, for the soul, gaudy.

 The soul can make no rest

Even in ranges of grass

Unless it reposes

Within the body’s breast.

Matters not where they lie,

Our souls must laugh,

Our souls must cry,

But all above,

Our souls must love,

Lest they die.

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