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Sara Teasdale - Come
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Come, when the pale moon like a petal 
Floats in the pearly dusk of spring, 
Come with outstretched arms to take me, 
Come with lips pursed up to cling.

Come, for life is a frail moth flying 
Caught in the web of the years that pass, 
And soon we two,so warm and eager, 
Will be as the gray stones in the grass.
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