Barham Beach a Poem of Regeneration

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Oh, where are you, Lance?
Surely you should be with us with me now ! And once I said I hated him, my child, You heard me, Theodore ! But God above Will never stoop to venge that falsehood wild By snatching from me all I have to love ! And do you say that he is almost well, That he shall sleep and win from his repose Such honey sweet as from the blue harebell 96 BARE AM BEACH.
The brown bee wins, or from the Persian rose? Plow strange is all our living, Theodore!
Not till this hour have ever I b
...een glad, And now I surely know that nevermore Aught upon earth hath power to make me sad I" And then with sudden laughter, sweet and low, Hands prest against her sweet heartshaken side, She rising turned, but had not force to go, Only that Theodore her steps did guide ; He led her to a couch and made her lie, Forespent was she with weary vanished grief, Made her recline, and promised to sit by, Holding her hand, a mere wind-stricken leaf ; But ere she slept, half childishly she spoke Haply some things were better left unsaid, Eeserve and dignity being quite down broke, E en as when standing by the coffined dead, "I m sorry, Theodore, that I should call For Lance, or any one, when you were near, I meant it not, for you are more than all The world, my knight, my bucklered hero, dear, "- Again: "Nor did I mean that desperate cry That I had none to love but just my boy, I cannot sleep unshriven of that lie, My spirit s gold clogged with such vile alloy, " Again : "Of course I never hated him, My bud, my beautiful !

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