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Dear Mary

A problem posed in the style of a famous poet to Mary, The Spectator’s agony aunt


Dear Mary, aid is if you can,

Ay, if you can,

There toils with us a kindly man,

Betwinkle-eyed and meek;

A soul to others’ needs alert,

One never mean nor cruel nor curt,

Yet none durst mention lest it hurt

How rank his trainers reek.


We’ve pondered much, full many a day,

Full many a day,

In search of gentle words to say

How odiously they stink.

But faltering forward, seeking still,

Intent on causing no one ill,

Words spring not forth. So, should you will,

Say, Mary, what you think.


(In the style of Thomas Hardy)

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