Poem by Sara Teasdale

Lost Things

  Oh, I could let the world go by,
   Its loud new wonders and its wars,
  But how will I give up the sky
   When winter dusk is set with stars?

  And I could let the cities go,
   Their changing customs and their creeds,—
  But oh, the summer rains that blow
   In silver on the jewel-weeds!

1. Gray Fog
2. Spring Torrents
3. Morning Song
4. Nahant
5. Winter Dusk

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