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1876–1944

SONG

Helen Hay Whitney

The sky is more blue than the eyes of a boy, A riot of roses entangles the year; Ah, come to me, run to me, fill me with joy, Dear, dear, dear.

The air is a passion of perfume and song, The little moon swings up above, look above, I cannot wait longer, I've waited so long, Love, love, love.

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SONG · Helen Hay Whitney · Poetry Cove