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The Miracle, and Other Poems

A SONG

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0 heart of mine—if I were but a swallow— A thing so fearless, swift of flight, and free— On wings unwearied I would find and follow Some path that led to thee!

Were I a rose out in the garden growing My sweetness I would give the vagrant breeze For he, perchance, might meet thee all unknowing— Yet bring thee memories.

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