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I wake and find myself in love: And this one time I do not doubt. I only fear, and wander out To hold long parley with a dove. The innocent and the guilty, met Here in the garden, feel no fear. But I'm afraid of you, my dear. There was a reason: I forget. And I by shyness am undone And can't go out for fear I meet My poems dancing down the street Telling your name to everyone. The lichen peels along the wall. My conversation bores the dove. He knows it all: that I'm in love And you care much and not at all. I shall stay here and keep my word. Glumly I wait to marry dust. It grieves me only that I must Speak not to you, but to a bird. **Written by: Dom Moraes Dominic Francis "Dom" Moraes (19 July 1938 – 2 June 2004) was an Indian writer and poet who wrote in the English language. **
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
- The Garden, by Dom Moraes.
I wake and find myself in love: And this one time I do not doubt. I only fear, and wander out To hold long parley with a dove. The innocent and the guilty, met Here in the garden, feel no fear. But I'm afraid of you, my dear. There was a reason: I forget. And I by shyness am undone And can't go out for fear I meet My poems dancing down the street Telling your name to everyone. The lichen peels along the wall. My conversation bores the dove. He knows it all: that I'm in love And you care much and not at all. I shall stay here and keep my word. Glumly I wait to marry dust. It grieves me only that I must Speak not to you, but to a bird. **Written by: Dom Moraes Dominic Francis "Dom" Moraes (19 July 1938 – 2 June 2004) was an Indian writer and poet who wrote in the English language. **
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Nov 5, 2017
Nov 5, 2017 at 11:21 PM UTC
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