To me more dear, congenial to my heart,One native charm, than all the gloss of art.
Heart of my heart, we are one with the wind,One with the clouds that are whirled o'er the lea,One in many, O broken and blind,One as the waves are at one with the sea!Ay! when life seems scattered apart,Darkens, ends as a tale that is told,One, we are one, O heart of my heart,One, still one, while the world grows old.Alfred Noyes
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