| Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (18331908). An American Anthology, 17871900. 1900. |
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| 1254. In Time of Grief |
| | | By Lizette Woodworth Reese |
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| DARK, thinned, beside the wall of stone, | |
| The box dripped in the air; | |
| Its odor through my house was blown | |
| Into the chamber there. | |
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| Remote and yet distinct the scent, | 5 |
| The sole thing of the kind, | |
| As though one spoke a word half meant | |
| That left a sting behind. | |
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| I knew not Grief would go from me, | |
| And naught of it be plain, | 10 |
| Except how keen the box can be | |
| After a fall of rain. | |
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