Poems (Mary Coleridge)/Poem 33

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XXXIII "HE KNOWETH NOT THAT THE DEAD ARE THINE"
The weapon that you fought with was a word,And with that word you stabbed me to the heart.Not once but twice you did it, for the sword   Made no blood start.
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They have not tried you for your life. You goStrong in such innocence as men will boast.They have not buried me. They do not know   Life from its ghost.

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