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Love reigns in the feeling-house
Warmth in the hearth,
Wooing weaves you a blanket
With which to warm you in lonely nights .
Loves has smithed us a ring each
to Troth, and bind us
Though smitten by the powerful weapon
The dead envy, and the living too,
For the life-yearning bees
Which seek their sweetness
Have reserved for us their honey.
And thus my love burns
as daily as the sun
For you, my only, truly
Copyright © Isveig Schmidt | Year Posted 2017