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To a Young Girl at a Window

Margaret Widdemer
The Poor Old Soul plods down the street,
        Contented, and forgetting
How Youth was wild, and Spring was wild
        And how her life is setting;

And you lean out to watch her there,
        And pity, nor remember,
That Youth is hard, and Life is hard,
        And quiet is December. 

This poem is in the public domain.

This poem is in the public domain.

Margaret Widdemer