Friday, June 6, 2014

Dearest Whitman...


Celia http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/celia-2/



Celia, we know, is sixty-five,
Yet Celia's face is seventeen;
Thus winter in her breast must live,
While summer in her face is seen.

How cruel Celia's fate, who hence
Our heart's devotion cannot try;
Too pretty for our reverence,
Too ancient for our gallantry!

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