Swift as the tide in the river
The blood flows through my heart,
At the curious little fancy
That to-morrow we must part.
It seems to me all over,
The last words have been said;
And I have the curious fancy
To-morrow will find me dead!
Hallo! My Fancy, Whither Wilt Thou Go?
Elizabeth Stoddard
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Poem topics: heart, river, swift, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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