Helen of Troy and Other Poems by Sara Teasdale
page 36 of 92 (39%)
page 36 of 92 (39%)
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Fairy snow, fairy snow, Blowing, blowing everywhere, Would that I Too, could fly Lightly, lightly through the air. Like a wee, crystal star I should drift, I should blow Near, more near, To my dear Where he comes through the snow. I should fly to my love Like a flake in the storm, I should die, I should die, On his lips that are warm. Youth and the Pilgrim Gray pilgrim, you have journeyed far, I pray you tell to me |
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