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For I could tell you a story which is true;
I know a lady with a terrible tongue,
Blear eyes fallen from blue,
All her perfections tarnished—and yet it is not long
Since she was lovelier than any of you.
And weeping fast as she had breath
Janet implored us, "Wake her from her sleep!"
And would not be instructed in how deep
Was the forgetful kingdom of death.
Two evils, monstrous either one apart,
Possessed me, and were long and loath at going:
A cry of Absence, Absence, in the heart,
And in the wood the furious winter blowing.
Here lies a lady of beauty and high degree.
Of chills and fever she died, of fever and chills,
The delight of her husbands, her aunts, an infant of three,
And of medicos marveling sweetly on her ills.
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- John Crowe Ransom Rate and Discuss this quote
- John Crowe Ransom Rate and Discuss this quote
- John Crowe Ransom Rate and Discuss this quote