Poems by John Hay
page 62 of 144 (43%)
page 62 of 144 (43%)
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And my heart is her beauty's dwelling-place.
Dreams I love a woman tenderly, But cannot know if she loves me. I press her hand, her lips I kiss, But still love's full assurance miss, Our waking life forever seems Cleft by a veil of doubt and dreams. But love and night and sleep combine In dreams to make her wholly mine. A sure love lights her eyes' deep blue, Her hands and lips are warm and true. Always the fact unreal seems, And truth I find alone in dreams. The Light of Love Each shining light above us Has its own peculiar grace; But every light of heaven Is in my darling's face. |
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