The Vagabond and Other Poems from Punch by R. C. Lehmann
page 71 of 84 (84%)
page 71 of 84 (84%)
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For he is dead and cannot rise again.
Then from the shapes that beat their breasts and wept, Soft to the light a gentle Problem stepped, And, lo, her clinging robe she swiftly loosed And with majestic hands her side produced: "Sweet Theorem," she said, and called her mate, "Sweet Theorem, be with me at this hour. How oft together in a dear debate We two bore witness to our Sovereign's power. But he is dead and henceforth all our days Are wrapped in gloom, And we who never ceased to sing his praise May weep our lord, but cannot call him from his tomb." And, as they bowed their heads and to and fro Wove in a mournful gait their web of woe, Two sentinels forth came, Their hearts aflame, And moved behind the pair: "Warders we are," they cried, "Of these two sisters who were once so fair, So joyous in their pride." And now their massy shields they lifted high, Embossed with letters three, And, though a mist of tears bedimmed each eye, The sorrowing Nymphs could see Q., E. and F. on one, and on the other Q. E. D. |
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