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Orchids
: Poems by Theodore Wratislaw
Wratislaw, Theodore
[epigraph]
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Orchids
42
LYRIC
There
is no truth like this—
Love flies when youth has flown.
The lips of youth alone
Are worth a kiss.
Turn thy full lips' red flame
To mine, that thirst: give way
For youth's sweet sake—and lay
On Love the blame!
Orchids