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138
THE UNDERSONG
To-day shall be no song, Love,
Here quiet now with thee;
No song holds all my love, Love,
So singing shall not be.
Here quiet now with thee;
No song holds all my love, Love,
So singing shall not be.
Let my hands frame thy face, Love;
Take this kiss for thy brow;
And these for thy tired lids, Love;
Ah! tears, not singing, now.
Take this kiss for thy brow;
And these for thy tired lids, Love;
Ah! tears, not singing, now.
Lay thy cheek to my cheek, Love;
Rest thy dear hand in mine;
Let thy heart search my heart, Love.
If it indeed be thine.
Rest thy dear hand in mine;
Let thy heart search my heart, Love.
If it indeed be thine.
And let there be no song, Love,
Save only this that tells
How deep, beneath all singing,
Song in the heart upwells.
Save only this that tells
How deep, beneath all singing,
Song in the heart upwells.
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