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From ``Egelykke''

In this the worst of all winters I caught again a glint of the skald's belief: That the North Star in its high tranquility Over this whole globe shall twinkle down peace. In defense of this belief I little know, Have no proof, have even no probability. What else is belief than the heart's throb? And mine too throbs at such dear words As native soil and God's peace.

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