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marriage poem

these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
never in all my life
they may talk of love in a cottage
i have heard them in the night
leave the lovely words unsaid
soft as the bed in the earth
when night drifts along the streets of the city
my soul is a dark ploughed field
our pleasant moments fly
it tells of good old times
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
a thousand silent years ago
with her hair flaying wildly

 



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