Edith Nesbit

(15 August 1858 – 4 May 1924 / Kennington / Surrey / England)

Song Iii - Poem by Edith Nesbit

WE loved, my love, and now it seems
Our love has brought to birth
Friendship, the fairest child of dreams,
The rarest gift of earth.

Soon die love's roses fresh and frail,
And when their bloom is o'er,
Not all our heart-wrung tears avail
To give them life once more.

But when true love with friendship lives,
As now, for thee and me,
Love brings the roses--Friendship gives
Them immortality.

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Poem Submitted: Monday, April 19, 2010

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