Parading

Ah, Love, there is no fleeing from thy might,

No lonely place where thou hast never trod,
No lonely place where thou hast never trod,
No lonely place where thou hast never trod,
No desert thou hast left uncarpeted
No desert thou hast left uncarpeted
With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet. —Sara Teasdale
With flowers that spring beneath thy perfect feet.
—Sara Teasdale

atoms

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