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The Dreams of My Heart by Sara Teasdale (August 8, 1884 – January 29, 1933)

The dreams of my heart and my mind pass,
Nothing stays with me long,
But I have had from a child
The deep solace of song;

If that should ever leave me,
Let me find death and stay
With things whose tunes are played out and forgotten
Like the rain of yesterday.

 

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