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At Verona

At Verona
by Oscar Wilde

HOW steep the stairs within Kings’ houses are
  For exile-wearied feet as mine to tread,
  And O how salt and bitter is the bread

All gentle folks who owe a grudge

All gentle folks who owe a grudge

All gentle folks who owe a grudge
To any living thing,
Open your ears and stay your trudge
Whilst I in dudgeon sing.

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