To My Special Friend Mickey
"...Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart's desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin."
"...Within, the bride in the dusk alone
Bent over the open fire,
Her face rose-red with the glowing coal
And the thought of the heart's desire.
The bridegroom looked at the weary road,
Yet saw but her within,
And wished her heart in a case of gold
And pinned with a silver pin."
3 comments:
What an appropriate poem. Don't get too close the fire Marilyn! You'll burn your whiskers off!
Poetry is pretty!
Dear Marilyn,
Poetry is pretty. The dogwood in bloom is pretty, too!
Yours,
Mick
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