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I know I am but summer to your heart,
- -
Edna St. Vincent Millay
0
Tis not love’s going hurts my days,
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
TO what purpose, April, do you return again?
By Edna St. Vincent Millay
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