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Till the dawn-light; ember lilts
The eyes of dawn will make my bed
In the river of some dream,
Where half-forgotten limbs will rise
Like vapor's on the breeze;
But who will walk or lean on me
Lean against this idle frame?
Who will take my grey-goose quilt?
And wrap it around my arms
And say wake my love for I am here
For I am here to stir your lonesome heart
And warm your bones in winter's dark
Till the dawn-light; ember lilts.
poem
by
Mark Heathcote
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