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Poem by Coventry Patmore
Venus And Death
With fetters gold her captivated feet Lay, sunny sweet; In that palm was the poppy, Sleep; in this The apple, Bliss; Against the mild side of his Spouse and Mother One small God throve, and in't, meseem'd, another. By these a Death-in-Life did foully breathe Out of a face that was one grate of teeth. Lift, O kind Angels, lift her eyelids loth, Lest he devour her and her Godlets both!
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