I found a broken heart the other day
So torn it was, it took my breath away
The noise it made was palest ever pink
It’s beating just as but the weakest blink
I wondered who once owned this precious thing
Was it by pauper, poet, or by King –
No matter, for it’s all the same I deem
Whoever that poor owner might have been
For poverty or wealth bears no effect
Upon this broken heart with its defect –
A heart is still a heart, it must be said
With care and tender love it should be fed
I rescued it and held it to my breast
That it may lie content and be at rest
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