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She is not old, she is not young, The Woman with the Serpent's Tongue. The haggard cheek, the hungering eye, The poisoned words that wildly fly, The famished face, the fevered hand-- Who slights the worthiest in the land, Sneers at the just, contemns the brave, And blackens goodness in its grave. - Woman with the Serpent's Tongue [Women] Thou hadst, for weary feet, the gift of rest. - Wordsworth's Grave (II, st. 3) [Rest] The Somewhat which we name but cannot know. Ev'n as we name a star and only see Its quenchless flashings forth, which ever show And ever hide him, and which are not he. - Wordworth's Grave (I, st. 6) [God] Displaying page 2 of 2 for this author: << Prev 1 [2]
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