She throws a kiss, and bids me run In whispers sweet as roses' breath; I know I can not win the race, And at the end, I know, is death. (Maurice Thompson)

She throws a kiss, and bids me run In whispers sweet as roses' breath; I know I can not win the race, And at the end, I know, is death.

Maurice Thompson

Related topics

breath death end kiss race run sweet

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