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Sonnet XIX

The beautiful Diana draws her bow,
Takes aim, and then lets fly her flaming dart:
Will she, in truth, strike straight through to the heart?
And though afraid, without a doubt we know

That once again, she will deliver
A rain of arrows from her pliant bow.
And she will say, “O woman, do not go
Before me now without a bow and quiver.”

A virgin goddess hunting for her prey,
She always strikes at any passer-by,
And nearby ones will watch and step away

As soon as she’s within clear sight. We know
At once she’ll notch her arrows to her bow,
Take aim, and hit one hundred straight bull’s eyes.

© 2000 Alice Park

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