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241

I like a look of Agony,
Because I know it's true—
Men do not sham Convulsion,
Nor simulate, a Throe—

The Eyes glaze once—and that is Death—
Impossible to feign
The Beads upon the Forehead
By homely Anguish strung.

Added: 9 Sep 2001 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 12:40 AM | Viewed: 16980 times

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