Rivers to the Sea by Sara Teasdale
page 34 of 89 (38%)
page 34 of 89 (38%)
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I AM free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn, Swift and intent, asking no joy from another, Glad to forget all of the passion of April Ere it was love-free. I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly, But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply, I should awake, I should awake and remember I am my lover's. SUMMER NIGHT, RIVERSIDE IN the wild soft summer darkness How many and many a night we two together Sat in the park and watched the Hudson Wearing her lights like golden spangles Glinting on black satin. The rail along the curving pathway Was low in a happy place to let us cross, And down the hill a tree that dripped with bloom Sheltered us While your kisses and the flowers, Falling, falling, Tangled my hair. . . . The frail white stars moved slowly over the sky. |
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