Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Everything old is new

Young love is sweet to behold, sweeter and sweeter as I grow older. It’s also something of a wonder for a long-married person like me to think back to the beginning—to try to remember—that time—in September—when love was an ember—about to billow—     [Earworm alert. . . The Fantasticks is always waiting to be sung.]   […]

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