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Oh, there are eyes that he can see, And hands to make his hands rejoice, But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are ******* to bear his head, And lips whereon his lips can lie, But I must be till I am dead Only a cry.
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A Cry
Oh, there are eyes that he can see, And hands to make his hands rejoice, But to my lover I must be Only a voice. Oh, there are ******* to bear his head, And lips whereon his lips can lie, But I must be till I am dead Only a cry.
Sara Teasdale
1884 - 1933/Female/American