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When pale the winter's weakened sun doth shine That drapes the land in silence drab and gray; When birds and beasts in dreamless sleep do find Reprieve from wind-chilled darkness and decay; Then Boreas doth rule with frigid fist Thy cruel heart, wherein all love has fled. No mercy showest thou, thou doth resist My tortur'd pleas as though to thee I'm dead. How hath abundant summer's verdant joy Turned barren as the snow-encrusted ground? Why didst thou choose desire to destroy, When once thou claimed our souls were ever-bound? My heart to ice has turned within my breast And I shall evermore in silence rest. |
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Complaint to Morpheus Do I hallucinate this foggy-gray? Perhaps the window's dirty and the sun is waxing pale, I fear instead it is the lark, and not the nightingale. In any case my brain's a mess, I cannot think to speak; My eyes do itch, my limbs they ache, I am sore passing weak. For Morpheus abandoned me, denied his sweet caress, Now all my actions, thoughts, and words speak of that sluggishness. Oh wouldst that I could still retreat to slumber's soulful rest! Instead I must plough through the day and do my sorry best. And You who did desert me in my greatest time of need - Dear Morpheus, I curse you with Insomnia's disease. |
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A Child's Rhyme The taupe antelope Who's favourite food was cantelope No other melon would suffice Except for cantelope on ice Mope's friends thought he was very sullen. They called him Mo because they didn't want to encourage him. |