The Lady Visitor In The Pauper Ward

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Why do you break upon this old, cool peace, 
This painted peace of ours, 
With harsh dress hissing like a flock of geese, 
With garish flowers? 
Why do you churn smooth waters rough again,
Selfish old skin-and-bone? 
Leave us to quiet dreaming and slow pain, 
Leave us alone.

© Robert Graves