THE PILGRIM.

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On the shores of Ontario I'm now doom'd to wander.
A pilgrim in exile, a stranger I roam,
While the prince and the beggar, the wise and the simple,
In palace or cottage can each find a home.
The foxes have holes and the birds they have nests,
And all but a preacher has somewhere to rest.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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