"Nay sisters.
My Father was a man.
I think therefore I may understand the sex."
Miss Pole
Love took up the glass of Time, and turn’d it in his glowing hands;
Every moment, lightly shaken, ran itself in golden sands.
Love took up the harp of Life, and smote on all the chords with might;
Smote the chord of Self, that, trembling, pass’d in music out of sight.
Alfred Lord Tennyson
1809 - 1892
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