And wandered murmuring everywhere, 'My child, my child.'

~¤Akash¤~

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But even at the starting-post, all sleek and new,
I saw the wildness in her and I thought
A vision of terror that it must live through
Had shattered her soul. Propinquity had brought
Imagiation to that pitch where it casts out
All that is not itself: I had grown wild
And wandered murmuring everywhere, 'My child, my
child.'

William Butler Yeats
 
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