FROM HILALI
Hark, what, now loud, now low, the pining flute complains,
Without tongue, yellow-cheeked, full of winds that wail and sigh;
Saying, Sweetheart! the old mystery remains,--
If I am I; thou, thou; or thou art I?
The Flute
Ralph Waldo Emerson
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Poem topics: tongue, mystery, flute, yellow, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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