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CailinCeltic: Would that I were Sappho, Greece my, land,not this! There the noblest women, When they loved,would kiss. I Can't Feel The Sunshine - Lesbia Harford Images - Google PicFinder

CailinCeltic: Meaning must lie, Some beauty surely dwell In the fierce depths and innermost pits of hell. Yet still I seek, Month after month in vain, Meaning and beauty in recurrent pain. Periodicity - Lesbia Harford Photography - Berta Vicente Salas

CailinCeltic: Yet still our constant hearts rejoice Because the past survives . Lovers Parted - Lesbia Harford Artwork - Enrique Meseguer

stoutsider: Just bought

GSilentio: "What were the good of stars if none looked on them But mariners, astronomers and such! The sun and moon and stars were made for lovers. I know that much." —Lesbia Harford

CailinCeltic: Dearest Dearest If they let me go I'd hasten to you Where the waters flow In among the shadows and the dreams we know Dearest, dearest - Lesbia Harford Art - Victor Nizovtsev

CailinCeltic: I have two wings To raise me to the skies Withouten these My soul could never rise My shining friends All white and gold are ye Who make my soul A winged victory. I Have Two Wings - Lesbia Harford Artwork - Kat Moser

CailinCeltic: Then my heart breaks through These prison bars Of space and darkness And finds what is true Up past the stars where I'm one with you. When Day Is Over - Lesbia Harford

CailinCeltic: The past is gone We must believe It has no power to change our lives Yet still our constant hearts rejoice Because the past survives. Lovers Parted - Lesbia Harford Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour Somewhere in Time

queerasfact: You can read the full poem and whole lot more of Lesbia's work here!:

Rolands_Horn: Even Lesbia Harford has a cheap $30 paperback! Why not Gilmore?

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Poem of the day

Robert Service Poem
The Squaw Man
 by Robert Service

The cow-moose comes to water, and the beaver's overbold,
The net is in the eddy of the stream;
The teepee stars the vivid sward with russet, red and gold,
And in the velvet gloom the fire's a-gleam.
The night is ripe with quiet, rich with incense of the pine;
From sanctuary lake I hear the loon;
The peaks are bright against the blue, and drenched with sunset wine,
And like a silver bubble is the moon.

Read complete poem

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