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Buried Love I have come to bury Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see. I shall put no flowers at his head, Nor stone at his feet, For the mouth I loved so much Was bittersweet. I shall go no more to his grave, For the woods are cold. I shall gather as much of joy As my hands can hold. I shall stay all day in the sun Where the wide winds blow,-- But oh, I shall cry at night When none will know. Sara Teasdale's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1263 |
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