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1884–1933

Thoughts

Sara Teasdale

When I am all alone Envy me most, Then my thoughts flutter round me In a glimmering host;

Some dressed in silver, Some dressed in white, Each like a taper Blossoming light;

Most of them merry, Some of them grave, Each of them lithe As willows that wave;

Some bearing violets, Some bearing bay, One with a burning rose Hidden away —

When I am all alone Envy me then, For I have better friends Than women and men.

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Thoughts · Sara Teasdale · Poetry Cove