Crisis Poem by Mary Eliza Fullerton
Crisis
If I let go my strength
To hold your twisted strand,
It could but sear at length,
And hurt my coward hand.
Cling not upon my mind;
Though it be full and strong,
It was not made to bind,
More than myself for long.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Topic(s) of this poem: strength
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8/28/2026 12:02:43 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
