TO MY WIFE

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Take, dear, my little sheaf of songs,
For, old or new,
All that is good in them belongs
Only to you;

And, singing as when all was young,
They will recall
Those others, lived but left unsung
The bent of all.

W. E. H

April 1888
September 1897.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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