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Through empathy I know how sea folk, making too long an inland stay, begin to fret and seek to gravitate to docks and beaches, like birds at home where salty winds are wet. I understand such things, for here within me, responsive as a magnet to its pole, a love of hills -- blue hills with spruce upon them -- holds my direction sure, my tenor whole. Some beat of sea is in my blood. Known miles of prairie have acquainted me with space. But centered in my mind and strong with ties of origin, blue hills retain first place.

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