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 She dwells by Great Kenhawa's side,
In valleys green and cool;
And all her hope and all her pride
Are in the village school.
Her soul, like the transparent air That robes the hills above, Though not of earth, encircles there All things with arms of love.
And thus she walks among her girls With praise and mild rebukes; Subduing e'en rude village churls By her angelic looks.
She reads to them at eventide Of One who came to save; To cast the captive's chains aside And liberate the slave.
And oft the blessed time foretells When all men shall be free; And musical, as silver bells, Their falling chains shall be.
And following her beloved Lord, In decent poverty, She makes her life one sweet record And deed of charity.
For she was rich, and gave up all To break the iron bands Of those who waited in her hall, And labored in her lands.
Long since beyond the Southern Sea Their outbound sails have sped, While she, in meek humility, Now earns her daily bread.
It is their prayers, which never cease, That clothe her with such grace; Their blessing is the light of peace That shines upon her face.

Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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