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Remember me as I was then;

Turn from me now, but always see

The laughing shadowy girl who stood

At midnight by the flowering tree,

With eyes that love had made as bright

As the trembling stars of the summer night.


Turn from me now, but always hear

The muted laughter in the dew

Of that one year of youth we had,

The only youth we ever knew—

Turn from me now, or you will see

What other years have done to me.

                                      Sara Teasdale


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