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1884–1933

In the End

Sara Teasdale

All that could never be said, All that could never be done, Wait for us at last Somewhere back of the sun;

All the heart broke to forego Shall be ours without pain, We shall take them as lightly as girls Pluck flowers after rain.

And when they are ours in the end Perhaps after all The skies will not open for us Nor heaven be there at our call.

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In the End · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove