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Age Comes A-Wooing

Rating: 4.3

With shameless and incessant lust
Thy tremulous hot hands are thrust
Upon my body's loveliness.
O loathsome Age, thy foul caress
Puts on my heart a deadly blight,
Withers my hair to leprous white,
Binds fetters on my eager feet
That once on Springtime's road were fleet
To bear me to Love's shining goal.
Now bitter tides of sorrow roll

To drown me in a sea of woe
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Thursday, May 14, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: age
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 15 February 2016

This sounds like something Stephen King would write about in one of his fearsome books. This is powerful, skin-crawling stuff to come from the same pen as Trees.

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