The Gypsy Woman
'Whist, is what Mammy said,
As she whisked us off to bed.
Usually we'd go quietly.
But a gypsy woman sat
At our table,
Reading tea leaves,
Guests were few,
And she, I knew,
To be a special one.
She saw dark clouds in cups.
Past the tender age,
Stayed up longer,
Heard her bray:
'Tall dark men
Are on their way.'
I pricked my ears
I tried to put both
On the vent,
Both of them
Were forward bent.
Just then my father
Climbed the stairs;
I saw the dark mop
Of his hair.
He was tall,
He wasn't humming.
No one else foresaw
But I made it to bed.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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