Gen My Heart It Bled Poem by Mill Field
Gen My Heart It Bled
When I was young and fancy free
I hung my heart upon a tree;
And there an arrow found its mark -
My heart it bled from morn to dark;
'Til Night consoled the tremulous thing
And taught it once again to sing.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Topic(s) of this poem: dark,tree
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8/26/2026 8:28:40 PM # rel_20260826T082754Z_99b456e
