In what seems to be turning into a chilling summer theme, I offer this latest bit of literate humour from Wrong Hands' John Atkinson.
He's from Ottawa, but I don't hold that against him.
Not much.
Be to her, Persephone, All the things I might not be; Take her head upon your knee. She that was so proud and wild, Flippant, arrogant and free, She that had no need of me, Is a little lonely child Lost in Hell, -- Persephone, Take her head upon your knee; Say to her, "My dear, my dear, It is not so dreadful here." - Edna St Vincent Millay
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