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1884–1933

Snow Song

Sara Teasdale

Fairy snow, fairy snow, Blowing, blowing everywhere, Would that I Too, could fly

Lightly, lightly through the air. Like a wee, crystal star I should drift, I should blow Near, more near,

To my dear Where he comes through the snow. I should fly to my love Like a flake in the storm,

I should die, I should die, On his lips that are warm.

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Snow Song · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove