Each Thing I Left - Poem by James McLain
Is art of thousands my God,
where then is it's heart?
Thus this thousand shouldest it thy eye,
and mine with two,
pouring on him all thy tears bleed the sun to some extent,
and it that the hast of thousand l' made for you
and each thing I left with '; God'; .
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Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You