Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale
page 29 of 89 (32%)
page 29 of 89 (32%)
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LONGING I AM not sorry for my soul That it must go unsatisfied, For it can live a thousand times, Eternity is deep and wide. I am not sorry for my soul, But oh, my body that must go Back to a little drift of dust Without the joy it longed to know. PITY THEY never saw my lover's face, They only know our love was brief, Wearing awhile a windy grace And passing like an autumn leaf. They wonder why I do not weep, They think it strange that I can sing, They say, "Her love was scarcely deep Since it has left so slight a sting." |
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