In early voices, and in songs,
I heard the stories told
Of romance and of mystery
In days of ice and gold
And far my mind and heart would roam
Past mountain and past sea,
To find in one small, confined room
A world, a galaxy --
We give our toil, yes, our blood,
We give up our whole ghost,
But sometimes it's with word and tale
That we can give the most
For love is never black-and-white,
It can't be bought or sold:
But falls down like the timeless snow
In days of ice
And gold
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Tagged: Tags Life Perspective Poetry Words
Published by Beleaguered Servant
Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.
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