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THE BRIDGE OF YEARS.

When I was six and she was four, the midge ! We used to play about the old red bridge, And often dig in sand for half the day ; 'Twas then we "made it spades," as one might say. We quarrelled fiercely once, as I recall ; She said a word —'twas not polite at all ; She said it thrice to make her meaning clear, We came to blows, we "made it clubs," I fear. Long afterwards w« played at bridge —I lost. Lost all, yet played on,, reckless of the cost ; Then asked her, with the courage of despair, "A diamond may I make it —solitaire ?" She said a word ; she said it very low And only once ; it didn't sound like "No." 1 was—and am—the happiest of men, For we have always "made it hearts' since then. —Frank M. Bicknell,

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/CROMARG19100822.2.32

Bibliographic details

Cromwell Argus, Volume XLI, Issue 2209, 22 August 1910, Page 7

Word Count
144

THE BRIDGE OF YEARS. Cromwell Argus, Volume XLI, Issue 2209, 22 August 1910, Page 7

THE BRIDGE OF YEARS. Cromwell Argus, Volume XLI, Issue 2209, 22 August 1910, Page 7