My Heart!
My heart longs for you,
My soul dies for you,
My eyes cry for you,
My empty arms reach out for you!
My Heart!
My heart longs for you,
My soul dies for you,
My eyes cry for you,
My empty arms reach out for you!
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.
Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.
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