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Poem by Francis William Bourdillon The Heart Cry She turned the page of wounds and death With trembling fingers. In a breath The gladness of her life became Naught but a memory and a name. Farewell! Farewell! I might not share The perils it was yours to dare. Dauntless you fronted death: for me Rests to face life as fearlessly. Francis William Bourdillon Francis William Bourdillon's other poems: 1228 Views |
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