Page:American Poetry 1922.djvu/111

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Sara Teasdale

WORDS FOR AN OLD AIR

Your heart is bound tightly, let
    Beauty beware;
It is not hers to set
    Free from the snare.

Tell her a bleeding hand
    Bound it and tied it;
Tell her the knot will stand
    Though she deride it.

One who withheld so long
    All that you yearned to take,
Has made a snare too strong
    For Beauty's self to break.

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