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To Thee, My Love

Twelve full years our love hast known;
I pause tonight end dream.
For twelve full years our love hast grown–
How brief they truly seem!

Child wert thou then, but even so–
Such beauty shown from thee,
In aura holy’round thy heed–
It captivated me.

Twelve full years of thee, my love
Have made me love thee more:
Joy I find in heav’n ebove
Will have been mine before.

In rippling verse I’ve lauded some
Of nature’s forms divine,
But words do fail me, lovely one
When seeking praise for thine.

Patient, non-complaining sweet,
Rewarded shalt thou be
When thou dost reach those pearly gates,
For PUTTING UP WITH ME!

by Ray Romine Sunday, October 26, 1941

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