Happy National Poetry Day!

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Bit of a Tennyson lover am I,
And, in my youth, torture my family and friends did I.
Twenty firsts involve embarrassing photos; maybe a stripper.
Not so mine.
The Lady of Shallott was passed around,
and everyone told to gather round;
one stanza, read aloud, that's all I asked.

Like this:

Willows whiten, aspens shiver.
The sunbeam showers break and quiver
In the stream that runneth ever
By the island in the river
Flowing down to Camelot.
Four gray walls, and four gray towers
Overlook a space of flowers,
And the silent isle imbowers
The Lady of Shalott.
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