Thoughts

by Sara Teasdale

　　

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When I am all alone Envy me most, Then my thoughts flutter round me In a glimmering host; Some dressed in silver, Some dressed in white, Each like a taper Blossoming light; Most of them merry, Some of them grave, Each of them lithe As willows that wave; Some bearing violets, Some bearing bay, One with a burning rose Hidden away. When I am all alone Envy me then, For I have better friends Than women and men.

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