New Feet Within My Garden Go - Poem by Emily Dickinson
New feet within my garden go—
New fingers stir the sod—
A Troubadour upon the Elm
Betrays the solitude.
New children play upon the green—
New Weary sleep below—
And still the pensive Spring returns—
And still the punctual snow!
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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