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They said he sent his love to me, They wouldn't put it in my hand, And when I asked them where it was They said I couldn't understand.
I thought they must have hidden it, I hunted for it all the day, And when I told them so at night They smiled and turned their heads away.
They say that love is something kind, That I can never see or touch. I wish he'd sent me something else, I like his cough-drops twice as much.
Sara Teasdale
| Submitted Date |
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Friday, January 03, 2003 |
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