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I look beyond fate’s gift of age,
To when our days were young,
And hand in hand we laughed and loved,
And all the swallows sang.

But though the years corroding hands
Harsh desecrations bring,
Cold winter’s blasts can ne’er deface
Your heart’s eternal Spring.

(Written as a gift to my wife on the occasion of our Golden Wedding Anniversary.)

© Thurstan Bassett

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