Treasure Island

Anna Johnston MacManus

(1866-1902 / Ireland)

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After

Now that the gates are shut on all I cherished,
O wistful Love, I pray,
Blow no more haunting scents of roses perished,
About my lonely way.

Take from me memory of happy laughter,
Of kisses more than kind:
And that I may not meet his eyes hereafter,
I pray thee strike me blind.

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