Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 191

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CXCI TAR UBLIA CHI BIEN EIMA
To me realities but seemThe offspring of a foolish dream.The things that were, alone are true,The Past is Present here with you.
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With you among the flowers I stray,That grow not here but far away,And gazing from your eyes I seeA soul for ever lost to me,

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