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Show OVER MY WINDOW. <br><br> Over my window the ivy climbs, Its roots are in homely jars; But all the day it looks out at the sun, And at night looks out at the stars. <br><br> The dust of the room m'ay dim the green; But I call the breezy air; Come in, come in, good friend of mine, And make my window fair. <br><br> So the ivy thrives from morn to morn, It's leaves all turned to the light, And it gladdens my soul with its tender green, And teaches me day and night. <br><br> What though my lot is in lowly place, And my spirit behind the bars; All the day long I may look out at the sun, And at night look out at the stars. <br><br> What though the dust of earth would dim, There's a glorious outer air That will sweep through my soul if I let in, And make it fresh and fair. <br><br> Dear God! Let me grow from day to day, Clinging, and sunny, and bright, Though placed in shade, thy window is near, and my leaves may turn to the light. -[Mary Mapes Dodge. |