Longing

by


I am not sorry for my soul
That it must go unsatisfied,
For it can live a thousand times,
Eternity is deep and wide.

I am not sorry for my soul,
But oh, my body that must go
Back to a little drift of dust
Without the joy it longed to know.

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Return to the Sara Teasdale library , or . . . Read the next poem; Lost Things

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