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Dream Girl |
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You will come one day in a waver of love, |
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Tender as dew, impetuous as rain, |
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The tan of the sun will be on yur skin, |
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The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech, |
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You will pose with a hill-flower grace. |
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You will come, with your slim, expressive arms, |
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A poise of the head no sculptor has caught |
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And nuances spoken with shoulder and neck, |
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Your face in a pass-and-repass of moods |
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As many as skies in delicate change |
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Of cloud and blue and flimmering sun. |
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Yet, |
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You may not come, O girl of a dream, |
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We may but pass as the world goes by |
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And take from a look of eyes into eyes, |
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A film of hope and a memoried day. |
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Carl Sandburg |