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The Two Terrors

 Two terrors fright my soul by night and day:
The first is Life, and with her come the years;
A weary, winding train of maidens they,
With forward-fronting eyes, too sad for tears;
Upon whose kindred faces, blank and grey,
The shadow of a kindred woe appears.
Death is the second terror; who shall say What form beneath the shrouding mantle nears? Which way she turn, my soul finds no relief, My smitten soul may not be comforted; Alternately she swings from grief to grief, And, poised between them, sways from dread to dread.
For there she dreads because she knows; and here, Because she knows not, only faints with fear.

Poem by Amy Levy
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