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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!



Christopher Morley


Christopher Morley's other poems:
  1. The Old Swimmer
  2. Two O'Clock
  3. Our House
  4. The Young Mother
  5. The Moon-Sheep


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