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Its nature in thee, for thy light To be content with earthly home: It hath another, and its sight Will too much to that other roam,— And heavenly light and earthly clay But ill bear with alternate sway;— Till jarring elements create The evil which they sought to shun, And deeper feel their mortal state, In struggling for a higher one. There is no rest for the proud mind; Conscious of its high powers confined, Vain dreams mid its best hopes arise; It is itself its sacrifice. Ah! sad it is, to see the deck Dismasted, of some noble wreck;