A recitation contest for Canadian high schools
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Two consecutive lines of a poem, usually of the same length, that rhyme.
I do my best to tell it true
a thing exceeding hard to do
or tell it slant as Emily
His Grace! impossible! what dead!
Of old age too, and in his bed!
And could that mighty warrior fall?
Pavement slipp’ry, people sneezing,
Lords in ermine, beggars freezing;
Titled gluttons dainties carving,
If all the world and love were young,
And truth in every Shepherd’s tongue,
These pretty pleasures might me move,
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were — I have not seen
As others saw — I could not bring
What on Earth deserves our trust?
Youth and Beauty both are dust.
Long we gathering are with pain,
Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
Had we but world enough and time,
This coyness, lady, were no crime.
We would sit down, and think which way
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
A thin wet sky, that yellows at the rim,
And meets with sun-lost lip the marsh’s brim.
The pools low lying, dank with moss and mould,