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Our Hands Have Met

Our hands have met, our lips have

Our souls - who knows when the wind

How light souls drift mid longings set,

If thou forget'st, can I

The time that was not long ago?

Thou wert not silent then, but

Sweet secrets dear - I drew so

Thy shamefaced cheeks grown overbold,

That scarce thine eyes might I behold!

Ah was it then so long ago!

Trembled my lips and thou wouldst

But hadst no heart to draw apart,

Beneath my lips thy cheek did burn -Yet no rebuke that I might learn;

Yea kind looks still, not long ago.

Wilt thou be glad upon the

When unto me this love shall

An idle fancy passed away,

And we shall meet and smile and say'O wasted sighs of long ago!'Wilt thou rejoice that thou hast

Cold words, dull shows 'twixt hearts drawn close,

That cold at heart I live on yet,

Forgetting still that I

The priceless days of long ago?

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William Morris

William Morris (24 March 1834 – 3 October 1896) was a British textile designer, poet, novelist, translator, and socialist activist associated wi…

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