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Wiskey

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Rupert Brooke

Love

Love is a breach in the walls, a broken gate,
Where that comes in that shall not go again;
Love sells the proud heart’s citadel to Fate.
They have known shame, who love unloved. Even then,
When two mouths, thirsty each for each, find slaking,
And agony’s forgot, and hushed the crying
Of credulous hearts, in heaven—such are but taking
Their own poor dreams within their arms, and lying
Each in his lonely night, each with a ghost.
Some share that night. But they know love grows colder,
Grows false and dull, that was sweet lies at most.
Astonishment is no more in hand or shoulder,
But darkens, and dies out from kiss to kiss.
All this is love; and love is but this.



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Gastenboek (69)

  • Jessx

    2828
    282828
    28282828
    2828282828
    282828282828
    28282828282828(typing)

    1 decennium geleden
  • BillTom

    zeg je als 28 er is

    1 decennium geleden
  • Nikkixxx

    supppr spannend:P k kan niejwachten opp 28!!(Y)

    1 decennium geleden
  • TaraVAMPIRE

    whhhhaahahahha 2727

    1 decennium geleden
  • BillTom

    zg je als 27 er is

    1 decennium geleden

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