At last he spoke thus:
At last he spoke thus: How much honey of hope I carried from here to my beehives! How many roses of love I carried from here to my meadows! How many poems of love I wrote from here to you! How much tears of pain I shed from here till my tear-stream run! And How a young heart became an old one! O vainly I waited your love! And all the honey of hope, the roses of love, the tears of pain and the poems of love have no meaning to you. Written December 1st, 2001 © on Nov 30 2001 05:08 PM PST 18 • 0 • 1
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"At last he spoke thus:..."