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When beauty grows too great to bear How shall I ease me of its ache, For beauty more than bitterness Makes the heart break. Now while I watch the dreaming sea With isles like flowers against her breast, Only one voice in all the world Could give me rest.
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When beauty grows too great to bear How shall I ease me of its ache, For beauty more than bitterness Makes the heart break. Now while I watch the dreaming sea With isles like flowers against her breast, Only one voice in all the world Could give me rest.
Sara Teasdale
1884 - 1933/Female/American