Poems to Minna - Part 26
Make of your voice a dawn
Dropping little gestures upon my forehead,
While slumber-edged thoughts rise in my head
And wave back greetings droll and confused.
Pain has jested with the whirling night
And both vanish like a formed but untold prayer,
So, make of your voice a dawn
Dropping little gestures upon my forehead.
Dropping little gestures upon my forehead,
While slumber-edged thoughts rise in my head
And wave back greetings droll and confused.
Pain has jested with the whirling night
And both vanish like a formed but untold prayer,
So, make of your voice a dawn
Dropping little gestures upon my forehead.
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