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Poem by Sara Teasdale New Love and Old In my heart the old love Struggled with the new; It was ghostly waking All night through. Dear things, kind things, That my old love said, Ranged themselves reproachfully Round my bed. But I could not heed them, For I seemed to see The eyes of my new love Fixed on me. Old love, old love, How can I be true? Shall I be faithless to myself Or to you? Sara Teasdale Sara Teasdale's other poems: 1235 Views |
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