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Penelope and Her Suitors by John William Waterhouse
Aspen
Thine hair lies on the pillow,
and the creases of thy brow
do denounce the pangs of Dante’s fury:
hunger’s hollow eyes, a snare, to chore
the emerald mother’s crown.
Who doth love thee most—
who speaks to you in figurative verse,
heed the warning of their timely glance,
eat kindly at their table.
Who does bind thy covenant, true:
place thine hands in his favor,
rest thine head upon his pillow.
--Emily Isaacson
