Poem by Christopher Morley

Reading Aloud

ONCE we read Tennyson aloud
    In our great fireside chair; 
Between the lines my lips could touch
    Her April-scented hair.

How very fond I was, to think
    The printed poems fair, 
When close within my arms I held
    A living lyric there!

1. My Wife
2. The Furnace
3. The Church of Unbent Knees
4. The Young Mother
5. The 5:42

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