A Woman Homer Sung
If any man drew near | When I was young, | I thought, He holds her dear, | And shook with hate and fear. | But O! twas bitter wrong | If he could pass her by | With an indifferent eye. | | | | | Whereon I wrote and wrought, | And now, being grey, | I dream that I have brought | To such a pitch my thought | That coming time can say, | He shadowed in a glass | What thing her body was. | | | | | For she had fiery blood | When I was young, | And
trod so sweetly proud | As twere upon a cloud, | A woman Homer sung, | That life and letters seem | But an
heroic dream. |
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By PanEris
using Melati.
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