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1884–1933

Morning

Sara Teasdale

I went out on an April morning All alone, for my heart was high, I was a child of the shining meadow, I was a sister of the sky.

There in the windy flood of morning Longing lifted its weight from me, Lost as a sob in the midst of cheering, Swept as a sea-bird out to sea.

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Morning · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove