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Children

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I used to carry three of the five up to bed

They’d say ‘Daddy, daddy, please stay’

But I would go away, and work.

 

Suddenly we were semi-detached

They’d flown the nest, gone their way,

And what I wouldn’t give

For one more day with them;

When they were little, and I was young.

 

Telling them stories, singing songs,

Getting along.

◄ Kassia: a bold and beautiful Byzantine poet

A lonely sailor boy ►

Comments

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John Marks

Sun 3rd Apr 2022 13:41

Thanks Tom. "There is no remorse so deep as that which is unavailing; if we would be spared its tortures, let us remember this, in time." Charlie Dickens, Oliver Twist.

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Tom

Sun 3rd Apr 2022 10:23

This is beautiful, John.

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John Marks

Sat 2nd Apr 2022 22:10

Go raibh maith agat Clare.Tá focal níos buainí ná saibhreas an domhain.

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