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Show SEPARATE. Sj By Elsa Barker. H Love, I am lonely, and so far from thee! U I reach my arms into the open air (H In mute entreaty; but my burning s jM prayer fl Brings but a mocking echo back to JH me, My soul is sick with the world's ty- 9 ranny! j fjM What are the wills of men that they . ,;jfl should dare 3fl Intrude themselves between our j t ! breasts, and tear ; ' Our spirits from their shrines irrev- ' erently? ! O my beloved! Come to me today, JH For in a little while we shall be iJfjl dead; 9 And all the treasures we can take Mm away ' " Are memories of love-words we wM have said, jgH Shadows of hours together, and the mM gray WM Caressing ghosts of lips that once mm were red. y.m The Cosmopolitan. Ijtfl Ji |