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My Star

All that I know
           Of a certain star,
           Is, it can throw
           (Like the angled spar)
           Now a dart of red,
           Now a dart of blue,
           Till my friends have said
           They would fain see, too,
My star that dartles the red and the blue!
 
Then it stops like a bird; like a flower, hangs furled:
     They must solace themselves with the Saturn above it.
What matter to me if their star is a world?
     Mine has opened its soul to me; therefore I love it.
Autres oeuvres par Robert Browning...



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