This is my dream, It is my own dream, I dreamt it. I dreamt that my hair was kempt. Then I dreamt that my true love unkempt it.
Do you think my mind is maturing late, or simply rotted early?
When I remember bygone days I think how evening follows morn So many I loved were not yet dead, So many I love were not yet born.
I claim there ain't Another Saint As great as Valentine.
To love is an active verb.
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