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Into my heart an air that kills
From yon far country blows:
What are those blue remembered hills,
What spires, what farms are those?

That is the land of lost content,
I see it shining plain,
The happy highways where I went
And cannot come again.

A.E.Housman

Reminds me going on road trips to my family’s farm. We’d always take the scenic route through the country and see all the beautiful farms. And when I arrived at my grandma’s farm I’d run to the beginning of the fields behind the barn and wonder what was beyond it.

(via good-morning-scarecrow)

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