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Jose Marti
1853-1895 / Cuba
I'll Never Forget, I Vow (Verse XIV)
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I'll never forget, I vow,
That fall morning long ago,
When I saw a new leaf grow
Upon the old withered bow.
That dear morning when for naught,
By a stove whose flame had died,
A girl in love stood beside
An old man, and his hand sought.
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