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W. B. Yeats

W. B. Yeats

The Lover Mourns for the Loss of Love
Pale brows, still hands and dim hair,
I had a beautiful friend
And dreamed that the old despair
Would end in love in the end:
She looked in my heart one day
And saw your image was there;
She has gone weeping away.

#IrishWriters #NobelPrize #1899 #TheWindAmongTheReeds

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Bruno G.
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