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'Where shall we dwell?' say you.
Wandering winds reply:
'In a temple with roof of blue
Under the splendid sky.'
Never a nobler home
We'll find though an age we try
Than is arched by the azure dome
Of the all-enfolding sky.
Here we are wed, and here
We live under God's own eye.
'Where shall we dwell,' my dear?
Under the splendid sky.