And can this be my own world?
'Tis all gold and snow,
Save where scarlet waves are hurled
Down yon gulf below.
'Tis thy world, 'tis my world,
City, mead, and shore,
For he that hath his own world
Hath many worlds more.
Above The Clouds.
Jean Ingelow
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Poem topics: city, snow, shore, gold, save, world, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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