by Robert Frost
The rain to the wind said, "You push and I'll pelt." They so smote the garden bed That the flowers actually knelt, And lay lodged -- though not dead. I know how the flowers felt.
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March
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- THE ARGUMENT
- TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE
- THE PHOENIX AND THE TURTLE
- A LOVER'S COMPLAINT
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- Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
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