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Two Lovers

 Two lovers by a moss-grown spring:
They leaned soft cheeks together there,
Mingled the dark and sunny hair,
And heard the wooing thrushes sing.
O budding time! O love's blest prime! Two wedded from the portal stept: The bells made happy carolings, The air was soft as fanning wings, White petals on the pathway slept.
O pure-eyed bride! O tender pride! Two faces o'er a cradle bent: Two hands above the head were locked: These pressed each other while they rocked, Those watched a life that love had sent.
O solemn hour! O hidden power! Two parents by the evening fire: The red light fell about their knees On heads that rose by slow degrees Like buds upon the lily spire.
O patient life! O tender strife! The two still sat together there, The red light shone about their knees; But all the heads by slow degrees Had gone and left that lonely pair.
O voyage fast! O vanished past! The red light shone upon the floor And made the space between them wide; They drew their chairs up side by side, Their pale cheeks joined, and said, "Once more!" O memories! O past that is!

Poem by George Eliot
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