1 min read
Futility
Oh,
I have tried to laugh the pain away,
Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather
But the old fever seizes me to-day,
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Oh,
I have tried to laugh the pain away,
Let new flames brush my love-springs like a feather
But the old fever seizes me to-day,
Move him into the sun—Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown
Always it awoke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow