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The Self
Sara Teasdale

You had only
To open the door
To bring me the self
I was before.

I thought I should never
See her again;
I thought she was hidden
From women and men.

Her eyes had been bright
As the sun on water;
She sang as blithe
As an elf-king’s daughter.

I had hoped -- and then
I had stopped hoping.
The years ran downward,
Still and sloping.

But on that autumn night
I knew --
The self I was
Came in with you.

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