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Dark of the Moon

by Sara Teasdale

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Foreknown

They brought me with a secret glee
  The news I knew before they spoke,
    And though they hoped to see me riven,
    They found me light as dry leaves driven
  Before the storm that splits an oak.

For I had learned from many an autumn
  The way a leaf can drift and go,
    Lightly, lightly, almost gay
    Taking the unreturning way
  To mix with winter and the snow.

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