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A First Confession

17
I admit the briar

    Entangled in my hair

    Did not injure me;

    My blenching and trembling,

    Nothing but dissembling,

    Nothing but coquetry.

    I long for truth, and yet

    I cannot stay from that

    My better self disowns,

    For a man‘s attention

    Brings such satisfaction

    To the craving in my bones.

    Brightness that I pull back

    From the Zodiac,

    Why those questioning eyes

    That are fixed upon me?

    What can they do but shun me

    If empty night replies?

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