Friday, April 23, 2010

Last day of poetry.

Gifts

 You ask me what since we must part
You shall bring back to me.
Bring back a pure and faithful heart
As true as mine to thee.

You talk of gems from foreign lands,
Of treasures, spoil, and prize.
Ah love! I shall not search your hands
But look into your eyes.

Juliana Horartia Ewing (1841-85).

1 comment:

Mike said...

More poetry! YOUR poetry!!! xx