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The visitor stands at the grave in knee-high snow.
Hes been calling your house since 1962 Asking for you. Is he a distant or close relation to That man in Baltimore who annually visits Poe? Certainly you would know. And if this man who calls you should break through, What Loneliness, Time, and Pain must he endure At your fathers door? Brushing aside that meddling sister of yours He calls upstairs, Emily, my darling, my dear, There is nothing to fear! Dont greet him in the frills and curls you acquired late, Long after the Romantics claimed you, But come down as you Always were, your hair tucked in a tight bun, Your limbs loose in a drab, light summer dress The color of afternoon sun, The armpits and a flare up the back darkened with sweat (For you have been sweeping all morning), your s ... This article is available to subscribers and for individual purchaseSubscribe to TNC (Print and Online editions) Subscribe to TNC (Online only) This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 14 February 1996, on page 36 Copyright © 2008 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com http://www.newcriterion.com/articles.cfm/emilyscourtship-mcdowell-3660
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