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Sunday, February 1, 2009

Wood Song by Sara Teasdale

I heard a wood thrush in the dusk
Twirl three notes and make a star--
My heart that walked with bitterness
Came back from very far.

Three shining notes were all he had,
And yet they made a starry call--
I caught life back against my breast
And kissed it, scars and all.

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