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H. G. Wells: When whelmed are altar, priest, and creed; When all the faiths have passed; Perhaps, from darkening incense freed, God may emerge at last. This one, despite its subject, is far above doggerel: His friends he loved. His direst earthly foes Cats believe he did but feign to hate. My hand will miss the insinuated nose, Mine eyes the tail that wagg'd contempt at fate.
'Well, says the divil, and he grinn'd and wagg'd his tail, all as one as a dog when he's plaised; 'what do you say now? says he. 'Oh, says the colonel, 'only lave me alone until I bury my poor wife, says he, 'and I'll go with you then, you villain, says he.
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