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Another Dark Lady

 Think not, because I wonder where you fled,
That I would lift a pin to see you there; 
You may, for me, be prowling anywhere, 
So long as you show not your little head: 
No dark and evil story of the dead
Would leave you less pernicious or less fair—
Not even Lilith, with her famous hair; 
And Lilith was the devil, I have read.
I cannot hate you, for I loved you then.
The woods were golden then.
There was a road Through beeches; and I said their smooth feet showed Like yours.
Truth must have heard me from afar, For I shall never have to learn again That yours are cloven as no beech’s are.

Poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson
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