Moods - Poem by Sara Teasdale
I am the still rain falling,
Too tired for singing mirth--
Oh, be the green fields calling,
Oh, be for me the earth!
I am the brown bird pining
To leave the nest and fly--
Oh, be the fresh cloud shining,
Oh, be for me the sky!
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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