Still the pretiest girl in april
In my heart the old love Struggled with the new, It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things That my old love said, Ranged themselves reproachfully Round my bed. But I could not heed them, For I seemed to see Dark eyes of my new love Fixed on me.Old love, old love, How can I be true? Shall I be faithless to myself Or to you?
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