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I looked in my heart while the wild swans went over;
I had not seen before?
And what did I see . . .
Only a question less or a question more; Nothing to match the flight of wild brids flying.
Tiresome heart forever living and dying.
House without air, I leave you and lock your door.
Wild swans, come over the town, come over.
The town again, trailing your legs and crying!
Edna St. Vincent Millay
