Page:Demeter and other poems (IA demeterotherpoem00tennrich).pdf/63

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THE RING
49
Twelve times in the year  Bring me bliss,Globing Honey Moons  Bright as this.
Moon, you fade at times  From the night.Young again you grow  Out of sight.
Silver crescent-curve,  Coming soon,Globe again, and make  Honey Moon.
Shall not my love last,  Moon, with you,For ten thousand years  Old and new?

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