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Flowers left for Sara Teasdale
I cannot die, who drank delight / From the cup of the crescent moon, / And hungrily as men eat bread, / Loved the scented nights of June. / The rest may die -- but is there not / Some shining strange escape for me / Who sought in Beauty the bright wine / Of immortality? ~by Sara Teasdale~ Dear Sara, your iridescent talent lives on forever. Rest in peace.
- AngelSeeker
 Added: Jun. 23, 2012

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