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Hallo! My Fancy, Whither Wilt Thou Go?

by Elizabeth Drew Stoddard, 1895

Swift as the tide in the river
  The blood flows through my heart,
At the curious little fancy
  That to-morrow we must part.

It seems to me all over,
  The last words have been said;
And I have the curious fancy
  To-morrow will find me dead!

Published in Poems

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