letra de love memory - h. leslie adams
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thou art the soul of a summer’s day
thou art the breath of the rose
but the summer is fled
and the rose is dead;
where are they gone, who knows?
thou art the blood of my heart o’ hearts
thou art my soul’s repose
but my heart grows numb
and my soul is dumb;
where art thou, love, who knows?
thou art the hope of my after years —
sun for my winter snows;
but the years go by
‘neath a clouded sky
where shall we meet, who knows?
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