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1876–1944

BIRD LOVE —

Helen Hay Whitney

If you were but a rose — dear love — And I your bird, with dip of wing To tell a promise of the Spring And with a golden swift caress

My happy careless love confess, No pain such gentle vows could bring, No tears should stay my flight above, If you were but a rose — dear love.

Bird-love, rose-love, to last the day Why shall not we whose hearts are light Put by the coming of the night, Catch glints of rapture from the sky,

The scents that swing where lilies lie, And ring them to a garland white To ease the pain of life away? Bird-love, rose-love, to last the day!

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BIRD LOVE — · Helen Hay Whitney · Poetry Cove