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Twenty Days

Twenty days are barely gone,

I was merry all the day.

Folly was my butt of scorn.

Now the fool myself I play.

Wit and learning ruled my head,

Logic and economy.

All the books I ever read Taught me only vanity.

Most of all it moved my mirth Womankind the world should rule.

Man, the lord of all the Earth!

He, forsooth, a woman's tool!

Cherry lip and glancing eye!

What were rosy cheeks to me?

Beauty's truth was but a lie-- Witness tomes of history!

Twenty days had barely run.

Twenty years they well might be.

All my wisdom was undone,

Reason bade good--night to me.

Her hair was of the red red gold,

Her blue eyes looked me through and through.

She was twenty--three years old,

I was twenty years and two.

Fortune, fame,

I freely give,

Honour's self, if so she please,

Sweetly in her smile to live Other twenty days like these.

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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt

Wilfrid Scawen Blunt (17 August 1840[1] – 10 September 1922[2]), sometimes spelled Wilfred, was an English poet and writer. He and his wife, Lad…

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