The moon grows out of the hills
A yellow flower,
The lake is a dreamy bride
Who waits her hour.
Beauty has filled my heart,
It can hold no more,
It is full, as the lake is full,
From shore to shore.
Stresa
Sara Teasdale
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Poem topics: beauty, flower, heart, moon, bride, hold, yellow, shore, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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