I will talk no more of books or the long war / But walk by the dry thorn until I have found/ Some beggar sheltering from the wind, and there/ Manage the talk until her name come round./ If there be rags enough he will know her name/ And be well pleased remembering it, for in the old days/ Though she had young men's praise and old men's blame/ Among the poor both the old and young gave her praise.
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From: House M.D.