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Poem by Sara Teasdale


On the Wind


Joy goes by like a bird,
Love goes by like a leaf
But slow as an aged man's
Are the steps of grief.

Catch joy if your wings can fly,
And love if your feet can run;
But grief will still be there
When the game is done. 



Sara Teasdale


Sara Teasdale's other poems:
  1. The Giver
  2. Tides
  3. April Song
  4. The Song for Colin
  5. I Shall Not Care


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