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Tis not love’s going hurts my days,

- -

Edna St. Vincent Millay

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No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

I know I am but summer to your heart,

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

TO what purpose, April, do you return again?

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

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