Triolets

by Sara Teasdale

　　

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Before a lonely shrine Of foam-born Aphrodite, Ungarlanded of vine, Undyed by dripping wine, I brought green bay to twine, And prayed to her, almighty, And lo, the prayer of mine Was heard of Aphrodite. I sang of answered prayer, And now before the goddess, The maids lay flowers rare, And she has ceased to care For bay that I might bear. To heal my heart's distress, My feet must wander where There waits some lonelier goddess.

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