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But dearer now they are, sweetheart, The buses running to the Strand,— But we're so far, so far apart, Each lonely in a different land.
But, dear, with sentiment aside
(The candle dwindles to the cheese*)
I wish the sea were not so wide
When distance brings such thoughts as these.
One glance to see the foreign sky,
One look to note the stars o'erhead,
Sweet thoughts to you, sweetheart, and I
Turn in to billet barn, and bed.
* The Old Sweats fashion sconces from cheese.