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Cassandra

The mad girl with the staring eyes and long white

Hooked in the stones of the wall,

The storm-wrack hair and screeching mouth: does it matter,

Cassandra,

Whether the people

Your bitter fountain?

Truly men hate the truth, they'd

Meet a tiger on the road.

Therefore the poets honey their truth with lying; but religion—Vendors and political

Pour from the barrel, new lies on the old, and are praised for

Wisdom.

Poor bitch be wise.

No: you'll still mumble in a corner a crust of truth, to

And gods disgusting—you and I,

Cassandra.

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Robinson Jeffers

John Robinson Jeffers (January 10, 1887 – January 20, 1962) was an American poet, known for his work about the central California coast. Much of…
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