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1884–1933

Buried Love

Sara Teasdale

I have come to bury Love Beneath a tree, In the forest tall and black Where none can see.

I shall put no flowers at his head, Nor stone at his feet, For the mouth I loved so much Was bittersweet.

I shall go no more to his grave, For the woods are cold. I shall gather as much of joy As my hands can hold.

I shall stay all day in the sun Where the wide winds blow,— But oh, I shall cry at night When none will know.

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Buried Love · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove