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Sara Teasdale - The Song Maker
Work rating: Medium

I made a hundred little songs 
That told the joy and pain of love, 
And sang them blithely, tho` I knew 
No whit thereof.

I was a weaver deaf and blind; 
A miracle was wrought for me, 
But I have lost my skill to weave 
Since I can see.

For while I sang — ah swift and strange! 
Love passed and touched me on the brow, 
And I who made so many songs 
Am silent now.
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