"I am tired, Beloved, of chafing my heart against the want of you; of squeezing it into little inkdrops, And posting it."
"My heart is tuned to sorrow, and the strings Vibrate most readily to minor chords, Searching and sad; my mind is stuffed with words Which voice the passion and the ache of things: Illusions beating with their baffled wings Against the walls of circumstance."
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Source: Amy Lowell (1955). “Complete poetical works: With an introd. by Louis Untermeyer”
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