Frederick William (FW) Harvey
To the Unknown Nurse
Moth-like at night you flit or fly
To where the other patients lie ;
I hear, as you brush by my door
The flutter of your wings, no more.
Shall I now call you in and see
The phantom vanish instantly ?
Perhaps some sixteen stone or worse.
Suddenly falling through my verse !
Nay, be you sour, or be you sweet,
I'd see you not. Life's wisdom is
To keep one's dreams. Oh never quiz
The lovely lady in the street !
I knew a man who went large-eyed
And happy, till he bought pince-nez
And saw things as they were. He died
— A pessimist — the other day.
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
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