Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz
Morns like these - we parted -
Noons like these - she rose -
Fluttering first - then firmer
To her fair repose.
Never did she lisp it -
It was not for me -
She - was mute from transport -
I - from agony -

Till - the evening nearing
One the curtains drew -
Quick! A sharper rustling!
And this linnet flew

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    Scritta da: Silvana Stremiz

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