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Poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay The Return from Town As I sat down by Saddle Stream To bathe my dusty feet there, A boy was standing on the bridge Any girl would meet there. As I went over Woody Knob And dipped into the hollow, A youth was coming up the hill Any maid would follow. Then in I turned at my own gate,— And nothing to be sad for— To such a man as any wife Would pass a pretty lad for. Edna St. Vincent Millay Edna St. Vincent Millay's other poems: 1324 Views |
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