< Page:Collected poems vol 1 de la mare.djvu
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THE LISTENERS: 1914

No voiceless sorrow grieved her mind,
No memory her bosom stirred,
Nor dreamed she, as she read to two,
'Twas surely three who heard.

Yet when, the story done, she smiled
From face to face, serene and clear,
A love, half dread, sprang up, as she

Leaned close and drew them near.

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