“
My thoughts
Chink against my ribs
And roll about like silver hail-stones.
I should like to spit them out,
And pour them, all shining,
Over you.
But my heart is shut upon them
And holds them straitly.
Come, You! and open my heart;
That my thoughts torment me no longer,
But glitter in your hair.
Amy Lowell, “Bullion”
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