Phil' Crimmins

Still as he climbed into the public view
His charms of person more apparent grew,
Till the pleased world that watched his airy grace
Saw nothing of him but his nether face
Forgot his follies with his head's retreat,
And blessed his virtues as it viewed their seat.


Pestilence

High on a throne of noisome ooze and heat,
'Mid rotting trees of bayou and lagoon,
Ghastly she sits beneath the skeleton moon,
A tawny horror coiling at her feet
Fever, whose eyes keep watching, serpent-like,
Until her eyes shall bid him rise and strike.


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