A lady and I were walking

A lady and I were walking
Where waters flow;
A lady and I were talking
Softly and slow.
This is what you were saying,
Lady of mine,
'I will be sad without him,
Yea, I will pine.
But he would never leave me
If he were free.
That's what my love in prison
Whispered to me.'

poem by Lesbia Harford
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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