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Rivers to the Sea

by Sara Teasdale

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Love-Free

I AM free of love as a bird flying south in the autumn,
  Swift and intent, asking no joy from another,
  Glad to forget all of the passion of April
       Ere it was love-free.

I am free of love, and I listen to music lightly,
  But if he returned, if he should look at me deeply,
  I should awake, I should awake and remember
       I am my lover’s.

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