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On Violet's Wafers, Sent Me When I Was Ill

Rating: 2.4

Fine-tissued as her finger-tips, and white
As all her thoughts; in shape like shields of prize,
As if before young Violet's dreaming eyes
Still blazed the two great Theban bucklers bright
That swayed the random of that furious fight
Where Palamon and Arcite made assize
For Emily; fresh, crisp as her replies,
That, not with sting, but pith, do oft invite
More trial of the tongue; simple, like her,
Well fitting lowlihood, yet fine as well,

-- The queen's no finer; rich (though gossamer)
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7/21/2021 10:44:27 AM # 1.0.0.663