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Rivers to the Sea

by Sara Teasdale

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Morning

I WENT out on an April morning
     All alone, for my heart was high,
  I was a child of the shining meadow,
     I was a sister of the sky.

There in the windy flood of morning
     Longing lifted its weight from me,
  Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering,
     Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.

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