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MY LOVE, by                    
First Line: My love, she is no longer young
Last Line: The grace of paradise.
Subject(s): Hearts; Love; Old Age; Wrinkles


My love, she is no longer young;
Her hair is ringed with gray;
The grace that to her figure clung
Does not remain today.

Her step is not so light as erst;
Her cheek is paler grown;
Her hand is thinner than when first
It lay within my own.

One slender finger holds in ward
Our union's token fair;
Then close it clung, but now a guard
Confines the circlet there.

Her eyes with tender love are lit;
They gaze upon me now;
The signature of care is writ
In wrinkles on her brow.

Four times has heaven enriched our goods
With treasure from the skies;
And thrice has grief unlocked its floods
And drowned her gentle eyes.

Her heart is an unfathomed spring
Whose depths all tears receive;
"She loves me best whene'er I sing
The songs that make her grieve."

Her peaceful brow contains no trace
Of passion-conflict striven;
A purer flame has filled her face—
The effluence of heaven.

For there her fancies often roam,
And there she fain would be
What time her thoughts are of the home
Of those she longs to see.

I hear them in her voice, in truth
I see them in her eyes;
My love, she wears with fadeless youth,
The grace of Paradise.





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