This―!
The spirit home!
Why the floor is ground!
The plants are true plants―I can grasp them, and yonder, the far-expanding ocean reflecting the azure sky, while from its expanse, delicious zephyrs fan my brow.
Really! now I am dreaming―such sublime beauty and transparency belong alone to the realms of the ideal!
My beloved, this is no fancy, but staid reality―the permanence of which is as fixed as our former abode.
This is land―that is water―these are plants―you are not deceived in the least.
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