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Amy Lowell - Bullion
Work rating: Medium

MY thoughts 
Chink against my ribs 
And roll about like silver hail-stones. 
I should like to spill them out, 
And pour them, all shining, 
Over you. 
But my heart is shut upon them 
And holds them straitly. 
Come, You! and open my heart; 
That my thoughts torment me no longer, 
But glitter in your hair.
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