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Winter Dusk

by Sara Teasdale
I watch the great clear twilight
 Veiling the ice-bowed trees;
Their branches tinkle faintly
 With crystal melodies.
The larches bend their silver
 Over the hush of snow;
One star is lighted in the west,
 Two in the zenith glow.
For a moment I have forgotten
 Wars and women who mourn —
I think of the mother who bore me
 And thank her that I was born.

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