As slow our ship her foamy track
Against the wind was cleaving,
Her trembling pennant still look'd back
To that dear isle 'twas leaving.
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Truth. A universal truth. Being universal does not cheapen the sentiment. We've all longed for a time, a place, we would like to return to... it's natural for man to want that more perfect place, when life had not scarred us, when dreams were still possible, and emotions shone like stars in the sky pure and elegant.
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Truth. A universal truth. Being universal does not cheapen the sentiment. We've all longed for a time, a place, we would like to return to... it's natural for man to want that more perfect place, when life had not scarred us, when dreams were still possible, and emotions shone like stars in the sky pure and elegant.