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Classics
Sara Teasdale
The Old Maid
I saw her in a Broadway car,
The woman I might grow to be;
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me.
Her hair was dull and drew no light
And yet its color was as mine;
Her eyes were strangely like my eyes
Thoβ love had never made them shine.
Her body was a thing grown thin,
Hungry for love that never came;
Her soul was frozen in the dark
Unwarmed forever by loveβs flame.
I felt my lover look at her
And then turn suddenly to me,β
His eyes were magic to defy
The woman I shall never be.
Classics
Sara Teasdale
1884 - 1933
/
Female
/
American
(
1884 - 1933
/
Female
/
American
)
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,
Sedoo Ashivor
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