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OUT OF PLACE.
Cell, poor little cell, Distended with pain, Torn with the pressure Of currents of effort Resisted in vain; Feeling sweep by you The stream of nutrition, Unable to take; Crushed flat and inactive, While shudder across you Great forces that wake; Alone—while far voices Across all the shouting Call you to your own; Held fast, fastened close, Surrounded, enveloped, How you starve there alone! Cell, poor little cell, Let the pain pass—don’t hold it! Let the effort pass through you! Let go! And give way! You will find your own place; You will join your own people; See the light of your day!
Previous: A NEW YEAR’S REMINDER.
Next: LITTLE CELL.