Dust

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Dust
by Sara Teasdale


When I went to look at what had long been hidden,
     A jewel laid long ago in a secret place,
I trembled, for I thought to see its dark deep fire --
     But only a pinch of dust blew up in my face.

I almost gave my life long ago for a thing
     That has gone to dust now, stinging my eyes --
It is strange how often a heart must be broken
     Before the years can make it wise.


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