Others make verses of grace.
Mine are all muscle and sinew.
Others can picture your face.
But I all the tumult within you.
Others can give you delight,
And delight I confess is worth giving.
But my songs must tickle and bite
And burn with the ardor of living
Ardor
Gamaliel Bradford
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Poem topics: face, picture, worth, delight, I love you, I miss you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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