April - Poem by Sara Teasdale
The roofs are shining from the rain.
The sparrows tritter as they fly,
And with a windy April grace
The little clouds go by.
Yet the back-yards are bare and brown
With only one unchanging tree--
I could not be so sure of Spring
Save that it sings in me.
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
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I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You