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To G.A.G.

Rating: 2.8

A hasty jest I once let fall-
As jests are wont to be, untrue-
As if the sum of joy to you
Were hunt and picnic, rout and ball.

Your eyes met mine: I did not blame;
You saw it: but I touched too near
Some noble nerve; a silent tear
Spoke soft reproach, and lofty shame.

I do not wish those words unsaid.
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COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Susan Williams 16 February 2016

I think we all have moments we wished we would have reined in our unruly tongue rather than, in sport, hurt a gentle soul. Would there was such a thing as do-overs.

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