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Love..

This is not one of mine but thought I should still share it. Its from a book of poems that my grandma found for me.  Written by Jean Ingelow. Published in1863.

Love.

Promised and promising I go, most dear,
  To better my dull heart with love's sweet fued,
My life with its most reverent hope and fear,
  And my religion, with fair gratitude.
O we must part ; the stars for me contend,
  And all the winds that blow on all the seas.
Through wonderful waste places I must wend,
  And with a promise my sad soul appease.
Promise then, promise much of far-off bliss;
But-ah, for present joy, give me one kiss.
BlueJay7 BlueJay7 18-21, F Oct 14, 2010

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